Way up in the heart of the Ocho Rios Mountains

a stream springs out of a mass of rocks

and slithers down a slushy sand slope

to slumber in a bed of small stones.

But finds no support in these shelly soft shale,

it scales the scapes for a place to call home.

Then it meets up with a babbling brook,

that pumps in gallons and strengthens the force.

Forging its way through dolomite lime stones,

plowing grassy pathways with youthful strength,

surging along through thick, deep gorges,

disgorging itself over gigantic crest lines,

and spreading out over layers of rocks.

Still no home it finds, so it gushes along,

forming shallow pools here and deep pools there

with huge whirlpools dancing frantically

then swirling fitfully, inside of their rapids.

Then it cascades down some towering rocks,

plunging its gallons into a massive basin below,

spuing out yards and yards of misty vapor,

producing the effects of a beautiful rainbow

with light shining forth in dazzling brilliance.

And then the fall crashes and bellows

with the roaring sound of a mighty thunder,

deafening the world near and yonder.

And then the river finds its home

in the estuary of the Ocho Rios Bay.