Mister Kong the guide
Is the primary teacher from hell
How many people living in Saigon?
You not know mister? Madam?
Guess! I ask you all!
But no-one knows so Mister Kong must tell.
On he goes, pedantic drone
As we bounce on the rickety potholes
I save foreign coins for my collection.
You give me some small change please,
From your homeland? Will make me very happy
I very handsome. No?
I tell a joke
It fails to cross the international barriers, this joke
No one claps or laughs
Untipped at tour-end, Mr Kong looks sad
Packs up his joke and melts
Into the seething cauldron that’s Saigon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem