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Turn east your eyes, oér the brimming blue of mountains
And see the morning sky serving feast of fervent gold
And through the hills climbing a heart like festive fountains
A man with tattered trousers, shirt stained and hat old
 
Down this man's shoulder a bag of palmetto leaves now hangs
Two cassava bread and a piece of roasted fish, an empty cup
And with purpose he rises; cross jagged rocks baring fangs
He makes his ascent to till the stony plot, always going up
 
Man's heart a iron clad determination, a firm defiance
Of withering times and adversity, he faces the sunrise
Bowing only to the majesty of his unseen God in compliance
And bushes drip from dew tippped lip in sweet compromise
 
And when the harsh months of gold turned brightly white
Are past, and trees cast leaves that break the shadows heart
The man climbs down, his sack harvest laden, until the night
Brings him back homeward, to share glory where he had start
 
And in the worlds beyond a trillion suns as twinkling stars
Serenade the journey upward, and applaud, for earth is where
We all belong, in the white foam that crashes on the bars
And send sprays of dreams like rainbows flying, into quiet air.
 
So we beholding gold, upward climb from sweat to glory
Life rugged at our feet, but country like flagpole lifted
Raise empty cup for blessings, and content of green history
In which we sing and share Jamaica's harvest love gifted.

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