Listen, my children, gather ’round.
Let me tell you a story,
About the sky and ground.
Of sea and land,
Of nature’s hand,
Of the heavens above,
Of the valleys and oceans below,
Some waves fast,
Some winds slow.
In everlasting time,
Doth nature’s rhyme,
The beautiful land of God.
Oh, how beautiful were the stone mountains,
Capped with diamond-like snow?
How beautiful were the meadows,
Where extravagant flowers would grow?
How mighty were the seas,
With their clear blue waters?
How mysterious were the stars,
Their constellations representing your lost daughters?
But now, my children,
Our land is bare.
Wild animals have been hunted,
Leaving no more than a hair.
Our mountains have been mined,
For their precious metals.
Our seas have been polluted,
Treated as dying petals.
So, my decedents,
In my dying breath,
I beg you,
I beseech you,
To clean up the rest,
Of our polluted world,
Striped of it’s beauty.
Without it’s nature,
Where is the pride of humanity?
This world is our ward,
We must protect our home,
Stop this behavior untoward .
We must take care of it,
And treat it kindly,
For where would we go,
If this Earth was dying?