Young River

Young River, many life times,

How many pasts you must have seen.

But never did you imagine

How large you would become

And soon became the tiger

And not that little cub

They would travel from the south of you

To save your brothers,

Mothers, fathers, sisters and cousins too.

From a man sent north

From the desert land

Who killed for the fun of few.

So when you started in the mountain high

Little did you know

That the ponies white,

Would fade in the light

To a bright red sunset hue.

As the tiger swims its way out to sea

We would ask that it carries its way

The hatred that lies

To the north and the south

Make happiness a single day.

By Maurice Lennon

February 2006