Way up, even farther up than even eye can spy
A solitary drifting hawk marking out the sky
Down below the manatee gone hunting for some grass
And birdlife far too plenty now to pass.
Sometimes total silence comes, all you hear is breeze
And all you see each time you look is miles and miles of trees
They call it Iwokrama, way out in the somewhere
A place of contemplation and refuge, bright and clear.
Even honey bee gone lazy, them too sleeping through,
Lazy creek and river, towering bamboo
This piece of earth I live in, this winding road, this grass
The striking sound of children, laughing as they pass
Sprawling open pasture, grateful for the rain
Smoke from fire drifting, hanging like a stain
The open field just dancing, the brown creek rushing by
Breezes moving tree top, bits of bright blue sky
No Bourda Market clamour, no traffic light, no fuss
No ringing sound, no ginching, no frustrated cuss
Nature in a cocoon, bird with flowing comb
This place where I man live now, I see that when I roam
It brings me daily comfort, it tells me I am home.
Looking past the ancient brook, where lizards find a peaceful nook,
Sakiwinki wide expressive grin, and Harpy Eagle drama
Our world within, this refuge, Iwokrama. IWOKRAMA
Way up, even farther up than even eye can spy
A solitary drifting hawk marking out the sky
Down below the manatee gone hunting for some grass
And birdlife far too plenty now to pass.
Sometimes total silence comes, all you hear is breeze
And all you see each time you look is miles and miles of trees
They call it Iwokrama, way out in the somewhere
A place of contemplation and refuge, bright and clear.
Even honey bee gone lazy, them too sleeping through,
Lazy creek and river, towering bamboo
This piece of earth I live in, this winding road, this grass
The striking sound of children, laughing as they pass
Sprawling open pasture, grateful for the rain
Smoke from fire drifting, hanging like a stain
The open field just dancing, the brown creek rushing by
Breezes moving tree top, bits of bright blue sky
No Bourda Market clamour, no traffic light, no fuss
No ringing sound, no ginching, no frustrated cuss
Nature in a cocoon, bird with flowing comb
This place where I man live now, I see that when I roam
It brings me daily comfort, it tells me I am home.
Looking past the ancient brook, where lizards find a peaceful nook,
Sakiwinki wide expressive grin, and Harpy Eagle drama
Our world within, this refuge, Iwokrama.
