North Central terrain of Kings, Tanks of ancient glory
Monuments archaic regal tell us the wondrous story
Sluice gates Yodha Ela technical marvels of history
When will thy redemption be from blood, gore & gory

Trinco, Batti Amparai Eastern Lanka’s golden beach
Ravaged as merciless Tsunami many a life breach
Trincomalee Asia’s finest harbour the world to reach
Peace dawning for the races harmony we beseech

Mahaweli basin a Paddy district of its own right
Elephants aplenty waters of Inginiyagala’s might
Tribute to DSS – a father’s endeavour & foresight
Thoppigala- terror no more; prosperity brings light

Uva- Spittle’s “Savage Sanctuary” backward no more
Dunhinda, Diyaluma, Ravana falls fury add their roar
Minipe daring early settlers – Namunukula tall forlorn
Dry Buttala & salubrious Bandarawela quite a combo

Wayamba Dambadeniya royal fortress of ancient king
Deduru, Mee Oya nourish the rich soil gently flowing
Coconut Triangle desiccated exported income bring
Athu Gal hovers in elephant shape its greatness sing

Sabaragamuwa famed for yellow & blue sapphire
Adorning the diadem of the Queen of the last Empire
Source for four major rivers- Kalu, is Provincial Sire
Tea, coconut, rubber bring in the commercial hire

Sinharaja primordial rain forest of valued biodiversity
Pushparaga aranol vairodi of our lustrous gem city
Tarnished by the flesh trade – to 1 hour payday loan no fax man man’s inhumanity
Father we cry for a fast vanishing youthful virginity

Kandy kingly intrigue – wounded memories of alien hand
Central Hill Country velvet carpet of green Tea Land
Climbing thru Ramboda to Hakgala & Little England
Roses, motor races unmoved Pidurutalaga tall stand

Grit & guts, O North of Lanka, Art, culture, education
We plead, honour lament thee, recall thy celebration
Wisp of hope many races – may they live as one nation
Kotta kilangai, karthakolumbun delicious consumption

O North let thy noble sons live to marry thy daughters
Generations rise live again in ancient family quarters
Cousins in alien nations come back across many waters
O Jaffna, “Broken Palmyra”, time nigh freed of terrors

Sons of the South Ruhuna ‘s ancient warrior heritage
Ging, Nilwala, Walawe, Manik, Kirindi rivers rage
Sadly her beaches polluted by paedophile rampage
Birthed a President, PM, poets, Martin W the sage

Mannar’s Pearls, South’s Kiri peni, Cinnamon Sensation
Endowed with God’s best, then Asia ‘s wealthiest nation
Many decry Portugese, Dutch & British Domination
Daunting challenge – heal our land for next generation

Western province & Colombo show piece of modernity
Merging all to be one nation of many races in unity
All her progeny yearn for lasting Peace & Prosperity
Prayers ascend to Our Father from hearts of sincerity

The Call of Lanka

by W.S. Senior

I climbed o’er the crags of Lanka
And gazed on her golden sea,
And out from her ancient places
Her soul came forth to me.
“Give Me, a Bard,” said Lanka,
“My Bard of the things to-be “

“ My cities are laid in ruins,
“Their courts through the jungle spread,
“My scepter is long departed
“And the stranger lord instead,
“Yet give me a Bard,” said Lanka,
“I am living, I am not dead.”

“For high in my highland valleys,
“And low in my lowland plains
“The pride of the past is pulsing,
“Hot, in a people’s veins.
“Give me a Bard,” said Lanka,
“A Bard for my joys and pains.”

I offer a voice, O Lanka,
I, child of an alien isle,
For my heart has heard thee, and kindled,
Mine eyes have seen thee, and smile;
Take, Foster- Mother and use it;
‘Tis but for a little while.

For surely of thine own children,
Born of thy womb, shall rise
The Bard of the moonlit jungle,
The Bard of the tropic skies,
Warm from his Mother’s bosom,
Bright from his Mother’s eyes.

He shall hymn thee of hoar Sripada,
The Peak that is lone and tall;
He shall hymn with her crags Dunhinda,
The smoking waterfall;
Whatsoever is fair in Lanka
He shall know it and love it all.

He shall sing thee of sheer Sirigiya,
Of Minneriya’s wandering kine;
He shall sing of the lake and the lotus,
He shall sing of the rock-hewn shrine;
Whatsoever is old in Lanka
Shall live in his lordly line..

But most shall he sing of Lanka
In the brave new days that come,
When the races all have blended
And the voice of strife is dumb;
When we leap to a single bugle,
March to single drum,

March to a mighty purpose,
One Man from shore to shore,
The stranger become a brother,
The task of the tutor o’er;
When the ruined city rises,
And the Palace gleams once more.

Hark ! Bard of the fateful Future,
Hark ! Bard of the bright To-Be,
A Voice on the verdant mountains,
A Voice on the golden sea;
Rise, Child of Lanka, and answer !
Thy Mother hath called to Thee.