Eight rivers clear and bright
Towards the ocean flow.

Washed ashore me, found I
On the sands of paradise island.
The good ship Jesus
A splintered wreck, scattered around;
'twas with good fate,
The ship of the demon ran aground.

Scattered souls fill this beach
The ebbing tide deposited me
One of a few survivors.

The merchants of stock, wished to
Exchange me, for spice, gold,
Oil or flint lock.

The island in the ocean free me.
The wide ocean free me.

High on green mountains, I am.

© Calac

Chris Lane

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ocho-rios/