Lost Brethren

By the green feilds and the open pastures,
Were some families who nestled there,
They loved each other and gave each other good gestures,
And never stopped to show they care.





Then there was a day when came the hurricane,
That crushed every little house and crop of the people,
It killed every plant ,even the ones that was cowbane,
And also broke their steeple.


Every man was for himself, every child was on their own,
They ran for their lives helter skelter.
Their confidence  in themselves was blown,
Because there was not even a Church for shelter.


No one remembers them now, no one prays for the land that gloried,
It now is the remains, the remains where brotherhood is now buried.