Was born a Scottish laddie, where the mountains kissed the sky,

and their slopes laid in the sea, and a bonnie prince did lie…

He heard a distant call, packed his bag and pipes,

left his shrouded shores, for a land of similar sights…

He left the glens and vales, traveled for months by sails,

to a distant virgin land, with just a simple plan…

To start a new life, far from the land of his soul,

raise a family with a loving wife, and together they’d grow old…

To clear the bush and fern, worked from dawn till dusk,

the hillsides he did burn, it was all go or bust…

His resume were his hands, had faith and power,

toiled through winds and showers, became friends to the brown man…

Learnt their customs and tongue, became part of the tribe,

treated each as one, the chief’s daughter became his bride…

They slept under the stars at night, winters were bitter and cold,

summers were warm and bright, the budget was short and tight…

Built a two roomed home, it was their main concern,

their castle without a dome, above the door he hung a silver fern…

Gave them courage and determination, to face adversity in their stride,

hold their head up with pride, to conquer trials and tribulations…

The silver fern gave them strength, to find a solution to find the way,

to be humble and gracious in defeat, there’s always another day…

It would become a symbol to the nation, something sacred and dear,

be worn with much admiration, to opposers it would strike fear…

The home was clean and neat, the open fire provided the heat,

there was always a pot of stew, with Maori bread to chew… 

Their home was their pride and joy, delivered his first baby boy,

many births he would perform, they learned to dance in the storm…

His home rang out with laughter, read the good book at night,

all slept under the one rafter, the family was close and tight…

Aged he died a happy man, a beautiful inheritance he did leave,

his daughters were the prettiest in the land, for their mother they’d soon grieve…

These are our castles it seems, built by our mothers and fathers,

for our country they had dreams, they stand as icons our treasures…

Yes he came from far away, a boy to build our home,

its still standing there today, and the silver fern still in its place………end