That stormy morning felt like a dream  
he told me then  of what he'd seen  
child a man  in times gone bad  
faces of stone  lined hard and sad  
One Sunday day  they all came home  
all that they had  was burned and gone  
The timber men  their pistols gleamed  
a lifetime lost  on Palastine  

He made a stand  he would [bad word]  
he dropped the hoe  and picked up the gun And then one night  he disappeared  
it fed the worst  of all their fears  
They found him quiet  high in a tree  
he flew away  from Palastine  

Then came the day  they moved away 
more gunmen came  they could not stay  
To Glen St. Mary  to Olustee  
but we still dream  of Palastine