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I Remember when days were long and all de children do is play, or how de burnin sun hot like fire and snow cone all melt away when I was jus a lad in Trinidad II And licks fuh so in de bam bam if I carry on like a sh-ithong. Playin cricket in de front yard in tattered vest ‘n watchicong wit meh bat ‘n pad in Trinidad III Hark de dogs of independence, hear “massa day done” dey bark buh still most catchin dey tail. And now allyuh snarl ‘n skylark - dats why tings bad in Trinidad IV So meh fadda “really speakin” and meh mudda, she believe “aye yah yie, it time tuh vamoose, oh crime! It time tuh leave” - dat allyuh gone mad in Trinidad V I say tuh she “yuh makin joke! Mummy, what is dis tomfoolery?”. Boy, nex ting I know I on a boat past de Bocas headin out tuh sea, and I was sad tuh leave Trinidad VI Dey get vex ‘n riot in de street peltin rock ‘n scream ‘n cuss. Shoutin “Black Power…Malcolm X”, PNM say “stop yuh dam fuss” buh tings get bad bad in Trinidad VII Trinis start tuh swell up dey face and ax demself “allyuh fuh real?”. Criminals was skinnin dey teet burnin ‘n lootin lookin tuh steal destroyin what we had in Trinidad VIII I would from meh exile return de land of rapso, kaiso ‘n calypso, where de panman play, padna, and de Cahneeval jumpin fuh so - den I was glad tuh see Trinidad IX Back tuh limin on sandy beach wit curried crab ‘n shark ‘n bake. Drinkin rum, Carib ‘n Stag spyin all de girls backside shake - girls sweet too bad in Trinidad X If yuh see party fuh so in East and fete in de village dong Sout, or Jouvay dawn at Pelican Inn until Road March jump ‘n shout - dis is de lime I had in Trinidad XI Meh fadda love ole talk, de ghost of Jumbie Bridge in he head. “Murder!” He laugh at dem Trinis at how dey all “fraid de dead” in Big Bertha clad from Trinidad XII He tink of tings back home like when de plum ‘n de mango ripe. “Jeezan-wrinkles!” He bol face say how “Crapo smoke yuh pipe”. God bless my dad from Trinidad XIII He vex over crime ‘n corruption, “de place full of ba’john ‘n ole tief and all need a cut-ass ‘n de cat!” All de bacchanal beyon belief and fuh all dis I sad fuh Trinidad XIV Meh mudda, she steups meh, “hol strain ‘n calm yuhself chile!”. She say “son, doh be a saga boy, doh flash ‘n doh make style” lest I too be a cad from Trinidad XV De whole contry gone tuh hell and doh know how tuh fix she. All de younger generation fuhget what it mean tuh be a Trini- tuh be proud ‘n glad in Trinidad XVI So now dey pullin cutlass ‘n gun and yuh tail lash out ‘n cuff! Now bandits is walkin de streets, Trinis so fed-up ‘n had enuff at how tings so mad in Trinidad XVII Allyuh in T ‘n T so blasted vex at de government pappyshow, buh in trute yuh still like tuh fete and lime ‘n sing yuh calypso den bawl bobbol bad in Trinidad XVIII It jus like back in de Canboulay when de lawless slaves run wile, or in de dark days of rebellion and uprisin when I was a chile when tings went rad in Trinidad XIX A pelau or buljol in yuh mout - a sorrel, mauby ‘n ginger beers, and a pastelle ‘n ponchecrema from Christmas tuh Ole Years! Dis is de taste I had of Trinidad XXI De Spanish come, de French too, de British, dey bring a queen. Dat was way back when dis island was de jewel of de Caribbean before I was a lad in ole Trinidad Written: January 2009
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