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Calypso rhythms titillate, The dancehall bass pounds through my soul, The gentle mistral percolates With undertones of lit charcoal. The luscious jungle looms on high, Awash with vibrant shades of green, Humidity squeezes so tight, And sweat drips down to form a screen. I stroll along the tranquil shore, Pristine volcanic sands of black, The mellow sunshine warms my core, I glimpse a brazen green macaque. The breadfruit growing by the gut, So ripe and fleshy in my palm, Alongside trees of cashew nut, The spoils of earth – a healing balm. But golf courses now dot the land, And carpetbaggers seize their prize, Our children must all take a stand, Before our island burns and dies