Prison is Hell
Behind the walls where shadows fall,
A dark and heavy, looming wall,
Stands Fox Hill in the burning heat,
Where terror and despair defeat.
The Bahamas Department of Corrections lies
Beneath the bright Atlantic skies,
A place of grim and bitter fame,
Where "Fox Hell" is its rightful name.
To walk inside those rusted gates
Is meeting cold and brutal fates,
A nightmare real, a torment deep,
Where broken men are forced to weep.
The concrete floors, the sweltering air,
The stench of sorrow and despair,
No ocean breeze, no island grace,
Just darkness in a claustrophobic space.
The cells are crowded, tight and old,
With stories left forever untold,
The iron bars, the slop-bucket line,
Where human dignity declines.
The days drag on, the nights are long,
Where echoes rise of tragic song,
A world of fear, a world of pain,
Where hope is washed away like rain.
I felt the terror in my soul,
The loss of mind, the loss of control,
A place I feared with every breath,
A living shade of waking death.
I swore right then, beneath the dread,
With heavy heart and bowed-down head,
I never wish to walk this ground,
Or hear the heavy iron sound.
So hear the lesson, clear and true,
To save the life that belongs to you:
Steer clear of paths that lead astray,
And walk the honest, righteous way.
Respect the law, protect your peace,
Let foolish acts and anger cease,
For freedom is a precious gift,
That keeps your spirit light and swift.
Avoid the night’s seductive lure,
Keep your intentions clean and pure,
Work hard for what you hope to gain,
And spare your heart this endless pain.
For one wrong turn, one selfish deed,
Can plant a dark and bitter seed,
That locks you in the depths of hell,
Inside a Fox Hill prison cell.
Choose freedom, life, and open sky,
And let the laws of right apply,
So you may never have to know
The dark place where the lost ones go.
