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Where we grow up in Trinidad
It’s a street with hills on both sides
And I remember my father
Going to work on the bike he rides

Trinidad had a rail way service
And my father use to drive a train
But the government scraped it
And he had to look for a job again

 He would go looking for work
For months no salary he brings
But he always made us happy
 Just Living with the simple things

My father was master crafts man
And we always look up to our dad
He cut oil drums with a hammer and chisels
And flatten them to fence round our yard

A task that took him months
And very hard to complete
Can you imagine trying to flatten?
Oil drums with a log, bare hands and feet

That’s the person my father was
A man of strength and character
And the foot prints the he leave
We will always follow after

 In the gallery at nights 
We kid would gather and sings
We were so happy with our lives
Just living with the simple things

My father  make concrete blocks
From gravel, cement and sands
And if you see our house in Trinidad
He builds it with his own hands

He never passes a person in distress
Would give his last dollar in his pocket
And he will walk away feeling happy
And he would do without it

He was a perfect gentle man
It’s how he live everyday
Said the hundreds of people
Who attended on his burial day?

Tonight he’s saying prayers in heaven
To the prophets and angels with wings
And I know it makes him proud
To see us happy with the simple things

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