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Paradise of the Pacific

Islands of tropical magic, whisper of wind through the palms,
Moonlight on silvery waters, freedom from care and alarms,
Music of soft island voices charm of the Southern seas,
Islands of dreams and of romance; tourists will tell you of these.

Thunder of deafening barrage, crashing of answering fire,
Flashing of guns in the jungle, seeking the planes soaring higher,
Rattle of rifle and bren gun, silence of hidden disease.
Islands of mud ever-dinging Third Div. can tell you of these.

Visions of wonderful beauty, garlands of beautiful flowers,
Madness of long clinging kisses whiling away stolen hours,
Lilting of soft girlish laughter, humming of birds and of bees.
Butterflies bright and gay insects—tourists will tell you of these.

Darkness and fear in the fox-hole, tenseness of nerves under strain,
Sweating of tired mud-Stained bodies hauling out trucks after rain,
Half-stifled groans of the wounded, taint of decay in the breeze,
Valour of deep-buried comrades—Third Div. can tell you of these.

Tight enclosed track in the jungle, limitless roll of the sand.
Snipers that lurk in the darkness, panzers that roar o'er the land,
Army and Navy and Air Force, roaming the Seven Seas,
All in the cause of New Zealand—History will tell you of these.