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