New Home - Poem by Angela Wybrow
When I tun twenty-three,
I journey East across de sea.
Pon an island, I mek mi home,
An, neva again, do I roam.
De people dere, dey look away,
But, I be strong an wanna stay.
Most de people, dey were white;
They did nah understand mi plight.
De skies bak home, dey often blue;
De sea, it have a turquoise hue.
Back home, I live by de beach:
In England, it far outta reach.
De sun in England hardly shine:
For de sun, mi heart still pine.
De skies in England often grey:
De rain fall down most de day.
De English need to guh wid de flow,
An let dere inna feelings show.
De English don lacka shakin dere hip:
Dey guh all posh an stiff uppa lip.
Wi sing, wi dance, wi ave a ball:
Wi ave ourselves a carnival!
I use to de ol’ reggae beat:
Ers soon ers it start, wi up on our feet.
De birds in England, all brown an black:
Of bright rainbow colours, dere major lack.
In Jamaica, dere diff’rent creatures;
Pon de landscape, diff’rent features.
I use to jerk chicken served wid rice,
An pinda cake – mmm, taste so nice!
I use to eating fresh fruit all de time:
Pineapple, mango, banana an lime.
I use to food all spicy an rich:
I find it hard to mek de switch.
Of flavours bak home, dere a riot:
De new flavours seemed suh tame an quiet.
De diff’rent sounds an diff’rent sights,
Dey often gimmi awful fright.
Sometime I feel extremely glum:
Dere were times I want mi mum.
I been here now fah thirty year,
But, for Jamaica, I still shed er tear.
I got mi job, I got mi friends,
Suh I feel pretty happy in de end.
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