There was a lovely place, I recall, in my childhood,
Where hyacinths bloomed, custard apples drifted
Amid myriads of pink, white and yellow water lilies. A serene place that rang with symphonic melodies performed
By chirping chimp-chimps, whistling treasures, cooing tobacco
Doves, quacking ducks and croaking frogs. There was a scenic place, richly wooded and shaded
By tall custard apple trees, pond top palms with tasty berries,
And berry-laden sugar plum and darling plum trees,
On whose fruits we feasted gleefully. There was a place, I recollect, where carefree children slipped
On moss-covered stones at the bottom of the pond,
While playing in the water among those flowers. There was a delightful refreshing place,
Where cool fresh water overflowed
And formed a huge pond ... THE HATCHET BAY POND. But there is that place, today, I see ...
It's beauty has been replaced by big water-carrying pipes.
Yet it remains, as I recall that lovely place
That mother nature gave to the children of Hatchet Bay.