On this new land of forests green,
where trod the Maori race of old
with greenstone axe and skirt of flax,
strode men from far away and bold.
They claimed these shores for distant realms,
ignored the Maori rights of land,
streamed here in wooden ships with sails,
feet striding Aotea sand.
They stripped the native timberlands
while whalers with harpoon and spear
plundered south seas placid depths,
beaches strewn with blood and fear.
Wish we could travel back in time,
hear forest bird life loud with song.
Too late, too late so many lost
from this green land where they belong.
Adding your comment: