©A. Derek Catalano
Hold On To Tradition
In the islands where the turquoise waters gleam,
Where the skies are bright and the palm trees dream,
A rhythm beats deep in Bahamian hearts,
A culture alive, where history imparts.
Hold on to tradition, to the roots that run deep,
To the stories passed down, to the memories we keep.
In the still of the night, when the conch shells call,
The Junkanoo drums awaken us all.
With feathers and bells, we dance in the street,
A pulse in our veins, the rhythm of feet.
Bright costumes of color, a sight to behold,
An echo of ancestors, brave and bold.
For in the parade, we honor the past,
A celebration of spirit, a culture steadfast.
Hold on to tradition, let it light up the way,
For the future is built on the past of today.
The hands of our elders weave stories in straw,
With each twist and turn, there’s beauty and awe.
Straw work and sculpture, from wood carved with care,
Speak to the craftsmanship long nurtured there.
Through market stalls brimming with treasures untold,
We cherish these gifts that our forebears have sold.
Hold on to tradition, to the art of our land,
Where the skill of the people is steady and grand.
In the wild bushes where the sea breeze roams,
The healing of nature finds its way home.
Bush medicine, ancient, in bottles and jars,
A cure for the body, the mind, and its scars.
The wisdom of healers, from leaf, bark, and root,
Still runs through our blood, still keeps us astute.
Hold on to tradition, to remedies pure,
For the strength of the land still offers its cure.
The beat of the Goombay, the sound of the drum,
Calls to the islands, inviting us to come.
Rake 'n' scrape music, a dance to be free,
A Bahamian melody, alive like the sea.
In each note, in each tune, we find our own voice,
In every sweet rhythm, our spirits rejoice.
Hold on to tradition, to music and song,
For through it, our heritage carries along.
In kitchens alive with the scent of the sea,
Bahamian cuisine calls to you and me.
Cracked conch, johnnycakes, pigeon peas and rice,
A meal made with love is a meal made precise.
Fish stewed in spices, a tropical delight,
Reflects the sweet soul of the islands' might.
Hold on to tradition, with each bite and taste,
For in our cuisine, not a drop will we waste.
Come July, we remember a day full of pride,
When Independence dawned and history cried.
With fireworks and flags that flutter so high,
We honor the courage of those who dared try.
Festivals, homecomings, regattas set sail,
Celebrations that tell of a Bahamian tale.
Quadrille dancing twirls, bright skirts in the breeze,
A dance of our people, with joy and with ease.
Hold on to tradition, to the freedom we won,
For the journey continues, but the battle is done.
So we gather at festivals, from Andros to Bimini,
A nation united, an island-born symphony.
From Long Island shores to Eleuthera’s embrace,
We hold onto culture, we hold onto grace.
Through every regatta, every song we sing,
Through every dance, we feel our hearts cling.
Hold on to tradition, for it keeps us alive,
A bond to our past, where our spirits revive.
In the Bahamas, where the sun always shines,
Where tradition lives on in rhythms and signs,
We look to tomorrow with hope and with cheer,
But our past is the anchor that draws us near.
Hold on to tradition, let it lead us through,
For in it, we find the strength to renew.
With Junkanoo drums and the taste of the sea,
We honor the legacy that makes us free.
Hold on to tradition, to the stories, the art,
For in every custom, we carry our heart.
And as long as the sea meets the shimmering sand,
Bahamian pride will forever withstand.
In the islands where the turquoise waters gleam,
Where the skies are bright and the palm trees dream,
A rhythm beats deep in Bahamian hearts,
A culture alive, where history imparts.
Hold on to tradition, to the roots that run deep,
To the stories passed down, to the memories we keep.
In the still of the night, when the conch shells call,
The Junkanoo drums awaken us all.
With feathers and bells, we dance in the street,
A pulse in our veins, the rhythm of feet.
Bright costumes of color, a sight to behold,
An echo of ancestors, brave and bold.
For in the parade, we honor the past,
A celebration of spirit, a culture steadfast.
Hold on to tradition, let it light up the way,
For the future is built on the past of today.
The hands of our elders weave stories in straw,
With each twist and turn, there’s beauty and awe.
Straw work and sculpture, from wood carved with care,
Speak to the craftsmanship long nurtured there.
Through market stalls brimming with treasures untold,
We cherish these gifts that our forebears have sold.
Hold on to tradition, to the art of our land,
Where the skill of the people is steady and grand.
In the wild bushes where the sea breeze roams,
The healing of nature finds its way home.
Bush medicine, ancient, in bottles and jars,
A cure for the body, the mind, and its scars.
The wisdom of healers, from leaf, bark, and root,
Still runs through our blood, still keeps us astute.
Hold on to tradition, to remedies pure,
For the strength of the land still offers its cure.
The beat of the Goombay, the sound of the drum,
Calls to the islands, inviting us to come.
Rake 'n' scrape music, a dance to be free,
A Bahamian melody, alive like the sea.
In each note, in each tune, we find our own voice,
In every sweet rhythm, our spirits rejoice.
Hold on to tradition, to music and song,
For through it, our heritage carries along.
In kitchens alive with the scent of the sea,
Bahamian cuisine calls to you and me.
Cracked conch, johnnycakes, pigeon peas and rice,
A meal made with love is a meal made precise.
Fish stewed in spices, a tropical delight,
Reflects the sweet soul of the islands' might.
Hold on to tradition, with each bite and taste,
For in our cuisine, not a drop will we waste.
Come July, we remember a day full of pride,
When Independence dawned and history cried.
With fireworks and flags that flutter so high,
We honor the courage of those who dared try.
Festivals, homecomings, regattas set sail,
Celebrations that tell of a Bahamian tale.
Quadrille dancing twirls, bright skirts in the breeze,
A dance of our people, with joy and with ease.
Hold on to tradition, to the freedom we won,
For the journey continues, but the battle is done.
So we gather at festivals, from Andros to Bimini,
A nation united, an island-born symphony.
From Long Island shores to Eleuthera’s embrace,
We hold onto culture, we hold onto grace.
Through every regatta, every song we sing,
Through every dance, we feel our hearts cling.
Hold on to tradition, for it keeps us alive,
A bond to our past, where our spirits revive.
In the Bahamas, where the sun always shines,
Where tradition lives on in rhythms and signs,
We look to tomorrow with hope and with cheer,
But our past is the anchor that draws us near.
Hold on to tradition, let it lead us through,
For in it, we find the strength to renew.
With Junkanoo drums and the taste of the sea,
We honor the legacy that makes us free.
Hold on to tradition, to the stories, the art,
For in every custom, we carry our heart.
And as long as the sea meets the shimmering sand,
Bahamian pride will forever withstand.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT