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Okay, here goes....
(serious face on)
Lament of the Banana Man
by Evan Jones
Gal, I'm telling you, I'm tired fo true,
Tired of Englan, tired o you.
But I can't go back to Jamaica now...
I'm here in Englan, I'm drawin pay
I go to de underground every day --
Eight hours is all, half-hour fo lunch,
M'uniform's free, an m'ticket punch --
Punchin tickets not hard to do,
When I'm tired o punchin, I let dem through.
I get a paid holiday once a year.
Ol age an sickness can't touch me here.
I have a room of m'own, an an iron bed,
Dunlopillo under m'head.
A Morphy-Richards to warm de air,
A formica table, an easy chair.
I have summer clothes, an winter clothes,
An paper kerchiefs to blow m'nose.
My yoke is easy, my burden is light,
I know a place I can go to, any night.
dis place Englan! I'm not complainin,
If it col', it col', if it rainin, it rainin.
I don't mind if it's mostly night,
Dere's always inside, or de sodium light.
I don't mind white people starin at me,
Dey don't want me here? Don't is deir country?
You won' catch me bawlin any homesick tears,
If I don' see Jamaica for a t'ousan years!
...Gal I'm tellin you, I'm tired fo true,
Tired of Englan, tired o you.
I can't go back to Jamaica now --
But I'd want to die there, anyhow.
(serious face on)
Lament of the Banana Man
by Evan Jones
Gal, I'm telling you, I'm tired fo true,
Tired of Englan, tired o you.
But I can't go back to Jamaica now...
I'm here in Englan, I'm drawin pay
I go to de underground every day --
Eight hours is all, half-hour fo lunch,
M'uniform's free, an m'ticket punch --
Punchin tickets not hard to do,
When I'm tired o punchin, I let dem through.
I get a paid holiday once a year.
Ol age an sickness can't touch me here.
I have a room of m'own, an an iron bed,
Dunlopillo under m'head.
A Morphy-Richards to warm de air,
A formica table, an easy chair.
I have summer clothes, an winter clothes,
An paper kerchiefs to blow m'nose.
My yoke is easy, my burden is light,
I know a place I can go to, any night.
dis place Englan! I'm not complainin,
If it col', it col', if it rainin, it rainin.
I don't mind if it's mostly night,
Dere's always inside, or de sodium light.
I don't mind white people starin at me,
Dey don't want me here? Don't is deir country?
You won' catch me bawlin any homesick tears,
If I don' see Jamaica for a t'ousan years!
...Gal I'm tellin you, I'm tired fo true,
Tired of Englan, tired o you.
I can't go back to Jamaica now --
But I'd want to die there, anyhow.
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