In the cradle of faith where prophets once roamed,
Lies a land of olives, ancient seeds sown.
Holy whispers in breezes softly blown,
Blessed soil, where the olive trees have grown.
From gnarled branches, tales of old are told,
Liquid gold flows, a sight to behold.
In every drop, sacred stories unfold,
Elixir of life, in Holy Land’s hold.
Pressed with prayers from hands of gentle might,
Emerges the oil, pure and shining bright.
A drizzle on bread, under soft moonlight,
Brings whispers of past, in the quiet night.
Holy Land’s gift, in green leaves cradled tight,
Olive oil, a symbol of God’s pure light.
A treasure bestowed, in day and in night,
In every drop, His love shines ever bright.
So, let us praise the land where faith took flight,
With olive oil, our hearts alight,
Celebrate the gift, in day and in night,
From the Holy Land, love’s eternal light.
Lies a land of olives, ancient seeds sown.
Holy whispers in breezes softly blown,
Blessed soil, where the olive trees have grown.
From gnarled branches, tales of old are told,
Liquid gold flows, a sight to behold.
In every drop, sacred stories unfold,
Elixir of life, in Holy Land’s hold.
Pressed with prayers from hands of gentle might,
Emerges the oil, pure and shining bright.
A drizzle on bread, under soft moonlight,
Brings whispers of past, in the quiet night.
Holy Land’s gift, in green leaves cradled tight,
Olive oil, a symbol of God’s pure light.
A treasure bestowed, in day and in night,
In every drop, His love shines ever bright.
So, let us praise the land where faith took flight,
With olive oil, our hearts alight,
Celebrate the gift, in day and in night,
From the Holy Land, love’s eternal light.
(©Holive Oil 2023 All rights reserved)
