Many moons ago the timbers cried
For times when fair skinned strangers graced this soil
Eager for their profit to bestow
And scalped the mighty mountains for their spoil

Lumber pulled by donkey cross the hills
Light up the night sky with their fiery light
As acres of fair country disappear
Make way for lofty cane fields overnight

Oh foolish man for gain, what hast thou done?
To take away the nests from turtle dove
You come from far away and interfere
For trees invite the showers of God’s love

Swift as the mighty forest lands had vanished
So, too, the old plantations met their fate
But nature in its wisdom hath rebuilded
and whispered that perhaps ‘tis not too late

For should a man so learn from his transgressions
Despite the need for roads and houses yield
And stop to plant these tender little seedlings
Will grow into a tall and handsome field

Oh Land of Turtledove your trees are calling
Beckoning the heart of every man
Plant those seeds, oh younger generation…
The future of our forests lie in your hands !