Jon Konnu
Here they come the prancing drums and fife
That call the children from their village life
To run with glee and meet with fear horsehead,
Whooping bway or devil costumed in dread
And there pitchy patchy dancing for his fee
I hear the grater still and feel my skinny knee
Knocking while crow head pitches over me
And behind him the cracking whip, devil's misery.
REFRAIN:
dum dudu dup dum dudu dup, dum dudu dup, dum
Form Freeport to Kingston
dum dudu dup dum dudu dup, dum dudu dup, dum
From Exuma to the Carolinas
It is riot in the sun
dum dudu dup dum dudu dup, dum dudu dup, dum
What rite was this? What strange festival came
From the plantation history of laden shame?
Given freedom to be animals, animals we exist
For we had no Saturnalia before in our forest.
Ashanti dance, yes, but assimilation all the rest
Except the costume, mask and colorful dress
These were mere exterior things hiding our pain
Inverted black devil with his merry animal train.
I shall not hear of it, something deeper inside
Scarred us, and we in nursery rhymes would hide
The truth we could not tell without punishment
Our tongues whipped lock our knowledge silent
The Christmas festival was for them, habit instilled
Survived deliverance form husk of foreign will
They come singing to tell children, not again
The whip and shackles, the iron cuffle of pain.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
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