Whe’ Fe Do?
Life will continue so for aye,
Some people sad, some people gay,
Some mockin’[1] life while udders pray;
But we mus’ fashion-out we way
An’ sabe a mite fe rainy day–
All we can do.
We needn’ fold we han’ an’ cry,
Nor vex we heart wid groan and sigh;
De best we can do is fe try
To fight de despair drawin’ nigh:
Den we might conquer by an’ by–
Dat we might do.
We hab to batter[2] in de sun,
An’ dat isn’t a little fun,
For Lard! ’tis hellish how it bu’n:
Still dere’s de big wul’ to live do’n–
So whe’ fe do?
We nigger hab a tas’[3] fe do,
To conquer prejudice dat[4] due
To obeah,[5] an’ t’ings not a few
Dat keep we progress back fe true,—[6]
But whe’ fe do?
We’ve got to wuk wid might an’ main,
To use we han’ an’ use we brain,
To toil an’ worry, ’cheme an’ ’train[7]
Fe t’ings that bring” more loss dan gain;
To stan’ de sun an bear de rain,
An’ suck we bellyful o’ pain
Widouten cry[8] nor yet complain–
For dat caan’ do.
And though de wul’ is full o’ wrong,
Dat caan’ prevent we sing we song
All de day as we wuk along–
Whe’ else fe do?
We happy in de hospital;[9]
We happy when de rain deh fall;[10]
We happy though de baby bawl
Fe food dat we no hab at all;[11]
We happy when Deat’ angel call[12]
Fe full[13] we cup of joy wid gall:
Our fait’ in this life is not small–
De best to do.
An’ da’s de way we ought to live,
For pain an’ such[14] we shouldn’ grieve,
But tek de best dat Nature give–
Da’s whe’ fe do.
God mek de wul’ fe black an’ white;
We’ll wuk on in de glad sunlight,
Keep toilin’ on wid all our might,
An’ sleep in peace when it is night:
We must strive on to gain de height,
Aldough it may not be in sight;
An’ yet perhaps de blessed right
Will never conquer in de fight–
Still, whe’ fe do?
We’ll try an’ live as any man,[15]
An’ fight de wul’ de best we can,
E’en though it hard fe understan’–
Whe’ we mus’ do.
For da’s de way o’ dis ya wul’;[16]
It’s snap an’ bite, an’ haul an’ pull,
An’ we all get we bellyful–
But whe’ fe do?
King Banana
Green mancha[1] mek[2] fe naygur man;
Wha’ sweet so when it roas’?
Some boil it in a big black pan,
It sweeter in a toas’.[3]
A buccra fancy[4] when it ripe,
Dem use it ebery day;
It scarcely give dem belly-gripe,
Dem eat it diffran’ way.[5]
Out yonder see somoke[6] a rise,
An’ see de fire wicket;[7]
Deh go’p to heaben wid de nize[8]
Of hundred t’ousan’ cricket.
De black moul’ lie do’n quite prepare’
Fe feel de hoe an’ rake;
De fire bu’n, and it tek care
Fe mek de wo’m[9] dem wake.
Wha’ lef fe buccra teach again
Dis time about plantation?
Dere’s not’in’ dat can beat de plain
Good ole-time cultibation.
Banana dem fat all de same[10]
From bunches big an’ ’trong;
Pure nine-han’ bunch a car’ de fame,—[11]
Ole met’od all along.
De cuttin’ done same ole-time way,
We wrap dem in a trash,[12]
An’ pack dem neatly in a dray
So tight dat dem can’t mash.
We re’ch:[13] banana finish sell;[14]
Den we ’tart back fe home:
Some hab money in t’read-bag[15] well,
Some spen’ all in a rum.
Green mancha mek fe naygur man,
It mek fe him all way;[16]
Our islan’ is banana lan’,
Banana car’ de sway.[17]
Pleading
If you lub me, Joanie, only tell me, dear,
Do not be so cold
When my lub is bold;
Do not mek dis burning heart o’ mine get drear,
Tek it for your own,
For ’tis yours alone.
I hav ever lub’d you from I saw[1] your face
On dat Monday morn
’Mongst de peas an’ corn:
Lightly did you trip along wid yout’ful grace,
Wid de kerchief red
Wound about your head.
Durin’ de revival[2] we b’en use’ fe pray,
Spirit we b’en hab,
How we use’ fe sob!
Yet how soon did all of it from we get ’way![3]
Lub kiver de whole,
We feget we “soul.”
Though I could’n’ see you when you younger b’en,
It was better so,
For we older grow,
An’ I can protect you now from udder men,
If you’ll only be
Fe me one,[4] Joanie.
How I saw you proudly draw up to your height–
As we strolled along
Gay in laugh an’ song,
Passin’ by de peenies[5] sheddin’ greenish light’–
Cos my lips did miss,[6]
Stealin’ one lee[7] kiss!
’Member you de days down by de river-side,
I prevented you
Your washin’ to do,
Teasin’ you at times till you got vex’ an’ cried,
An’ I try de while
To coax you fe smile?
Joanie, when you were me own a[8] true sweetheart,
I lived in de air
’Douten[9] t’ought of care,
Thinkin’, o me Joan, dat’ nuttin’ could we[10] part,
Naught to mek me fear
Fe me own a dear.
When in church on Sunday days we use’ fe sit,
You dressed in light pink,
How we used fe wink!
Wha’ de parson say we cared for not a bit,
Nuttin’ could remove
Our sweet t’oughts from love.
I am thinkin’, Joanie, when de nights were lone,
An’ you were afraid
Of each darkened shade,
An’ I use’ fe guide you over river-stone,[11]
How you trusted me
Fe care[12] you, Joanie.
’Member you de time when many days passed by,
An’ I didn’ come
To your hill-side home,
How you wrote those sad, sad letters to know why,
Till I comfort gave
To my Joanie brave?
In those happy days, me Joan, you loved me then,
An’ I t’ought dat you
Would be ever true;
Never dreamed you would forsake me for strange men,
Who caan’ lub you so
Much as thrown-up Joe.
Joanie, fickle Joanie, give up Squire’s son;
You wi’ soon hate him
An’ his silly whim,
An’ your heart wi’ yearn fe me when I am gone;
So, ’fo’ ’tis too late,
Come back to your mate.
Joanie, when you’re tired of dat worthless man,
You can come back still
Of your own free will:
Nummo girl dis true,[13] true heart will understan’;
I wi’ live so-so,[14]
Broken-hearted Joe.
An’, Joan, in de days fe come I know you’ll grieve
For de foolishniss
Dat you now call bliss:
Dere’s no wrong you done me I would not forgive;
But you choice[15] your way,
So, me Joan, good-day!
The Biter Bit
[“Ole woman a swea’ fe eat calalu: calalu[1] a swea’ fe wuk him[2] gut.”-JAMAICA PROVERB.]
Corn an’ peas growin’ t’ick an’ fas’
Wid nice blade peepin’ t’rough de grass;
An’ ratta[3] a from dem hole a peep,
T’ink all de corn dem gwin’ go reap.
Ole woman sit by kitchen doo’
Is watchin’ calalu a grow,
An’ all de time a t’inking dat
She gwin’ go nyam dem when dem fat.[4]
But calalu, grow’n’ by de hut,
Is swearin’ too fe wuk him gut;
While she, like some, t’ink[5] all is right
When dey are in some corner tight.
Peas time come roun’[6]—de corn is lef;
An’ ratta now deh train himse’f
Upon de cornstalk dem a’ night
Fe when it fit to get him bite.[7]
De corn-piece lie do’n all in blue,[8]
An’ all de beard dem floatin’ too
Amongst de yellow grain so gay,[9]
Dat you would watch dem a whole day.
An’ ratta look at ebery one,
Swea’in’ dat dem not gwin’ lef none;[10]
But Quaco know a t’ing or two,
An’ swear say[11] dat dem won’t go so.
So him go get a little meal
An’ somet’ing good fe those dat steal,
An’ mix dem up an’ ’pread dem out
For people possess fas’ fas’ mout’.[12]
Now ratta, comin’ from dem nes’,
See it an’ say “Dis food is bes’;”
Dem nyam an’ stop, an’ nyam again,
An’ soon lie do’n, rollin’ in pain.