When Mother came here pretty and young,
Father built her a house on a hilltop.
Spring times passed, half a century went by
Curls turned grey in the meantime.

 

But on the Jordan’s banks as if nothing had occurred,
The same silence… and the same backdrop
The Eucalyptus grove, the bridge, the boat
The smell of saltbush in the water.

 

Cannons thundered across the Jordan
Peace returned in the late summer.
And all the babies turned into men
and again on the hill they built a house

 

But on the Jordan’s banks…