The day dawned clear, and bright,
there was not a single cloud in sight
As the sun crept up the bush clad hills,
they turned to a golden green
The Mangatangi lake glistened like a mirror,
with out, hardly a ripple to be seen
Swallows were darting here, and there,
while the bellbird sang his song,
with the notes so crisp, and clear,
This was the scene that greeted me,
on the very first morn of,
the year two thousand, and three