That stormy morning
Felt like a dream
He told me then
Of what he'd seen
A child a man
In times gone bad
Faces of stone
Lined hard and sad
One Sunday day
They all came home
All that they had
Was burned and gone
The timber men
Their pistols gleamed
A lifetime lost
On Palastine
He made a stand
He would not run
He dropped the hoe
And picked up the gun
And then one night
He disappeared
It fed the worst
Of all their fears
They found him quiet
High in a tree
He flew away
From Palastine
Then came the day
They moved away
More gunmen came
They could not stay
To Glen St. Mary
To Olustee
But we still dream
Of Palastine