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One of the 12 songs on the Island Lore Full Album: Together, these songs form a musical storytelling journey across the islands. Some make you laugh, some make you feel, and some remind you of the deep strength carried in island traditions. IMMEDIATE DOWNLOAD.
Description
©2025 Song Pitchers, ascap
Song Prompter: Paul King
Verse 1
The storm came down like a lion in the night,
Tore through the village, left nothing in sight.
The fields lay broken, the people cried,
Too many were lost, too many died.
Among the ruins, a young girl stood,
Barely a child, but she understood.
Her belly was empty, her people in pain,
The land had been swallowed by wind and rain.
Chorus
She said, “I remember my mother’s hands,
Weaving baskets from the island strands.
I remember my grandmother’s song,
Telling me the thread makes the people strong.
Though the farms are gone, though the storms have riled,
Hope still lives in the weaver’s child.”
Verse 2
She slipped away to the broken grove,
Where the palm trees bent and the river slowed.
She pulled at the fibers, thin and fine,
Twisting them gently into fishing line.
With a branch for a pole and a hook of wood,
She prayed to the ocean, “Provide us food.”
She cast her line in the breaking tide,
And the fish came to her, swimming side by side.
Chorus
She said, “I remember my mother’s hands,
Weaving baskets from the island strands.
I remember my grandmother’s song,
Telling me the thread makes the people strong.
Though the farms are gone, though the storms have riled,
Hope still lives in the weaver’s child.”
Bridge
She wove a hat to shade her face,
She wove a net with her child’s grace.
What little she had, she brought back home,
To feed the hungry, to heal the torn.
The elders wept when they saw her stand,
With fish in her basket and rope in her hand.
They said, “From ashes, our spirit survives,
Through this young child, our people revive.”
Final Chorus (soulful, big)
She said, “I remember my mother’s hands,
Weaving baskets from the island strands.
I remember my grandmother’s song,
Telling me the thread makes the people strong.
Though the farms are gone, though the storms have riled,
Hope still lives in the weaver’s child.”
Outro (chant, soft and strong)
“Thread by thread, we mend the land,
Strand by strand, we heal by hand,
Through the storm, through the trials wild,
The island breathes in the weaver’s child.”
