Ross Island

You can smell blood in the air See billowing smokes of gunfire Feel the fettered men that died there From hunger disease and hard labor! Still reek the tennis court and the bakery Of the sweats of penal toils in that island Till they fell and died in slavery To the lashes of the whips of ruler's hand! The water plant stands like a cruel mockery Its ironed frame now ruined in century's rust Reminding those souls killed for bravery Never got a drop of water to quench thirst! Over the wails of the prisoners were made a paradise Where the monsters retired to seek love at night But the crumbling ruins of that island cannot disguise the stains of blood and denial of prisoners' right!