Trinidad
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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
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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