Jamaica 50
She dances still
And look to the future growing young
Her dream a hill
And love of it within the heart is wrung
But on her brows behold
The sun shines still as gold
No furrow there or trenches of care
She sings when others wilt in fear.
This is my home,
My native, shore and promised land
Her bright red loam
Colors my blood, gives me joy to stand
With children gathered here
Her jubilee to share
Fifty summers sweet inviting more
Jamaica, land that we adore.
Come to my house
Come feast the otaheite sweet fruiting
And tease the mouse
That primal joys are endless looting
Yet there is no travail
The wind roars in the sail
The lady holds her rudder plowing sea,
And fifty years sailing she's free.
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