The Bell Hill Band Saw
When kept sharp this blade would sing.
All day long its song would ring.
The forest that took ten thousand years to grow
Was cut down by men of renown.
Totora, matai, rimu and kahikatea,
All were harvested without a care.
The fauna, like the flora, soon passed the same,
Made to move on at the speed of flame.
mps are removed and farmers bring stock,
Fences set up and gates get locked.
Mountains are turned into holes in the ground -
Yet only in places where precious minerals are found.
Old work camps turn back to dust.
Gorse grows thick as all weeds must.
Birds come back, and in their faeces,
There lie the seeds of mighty native trees,
That reclaims sawmills and old abandoned mines
All in the twinkle of Father Time's eye
