Grenada

Piercing in the silent night,
A note of shrill in time,
Tells a tale of woe betides,
And sadness of a rhyme.

But listen well and hear anew,
This tale of woe reborn
Sheds new light upon the day,
And seeks to thus reform

And mould of clay so fine,
A tone of hope to see,
And gathering of flowers blooming,
In a scent thus Heavenly.

So take your toil and mould a score
Of music in a form,
Look in front of mirror cleansed,
And be proud, ever more.