Row Man Tik Dub - Linton Kwesi Johnson

Linton Kwesi Johnson Langtime lovah Mi mine run pan yu all di while An mi membah how fus time Di two a wi come een-it did seem Like two shallow likkle snakin stream Mawching mapless hapless a galang Tru di ruggid landscape a di awt sang An a soh wi did a gwaan Sohtil dat fateful day Awftah di pahan a di hurricane Furdah dan imaginaeshan ar dream Wi fine wiself lay-dung pan di same bedrack Flowin now togedah as wan stream Ridin sunlime tru love lavish terrain Lush an green an brite awftah di rain Shimmarin sid glttahrin eyes Glowin in di glre a di smilin sun Langtime lovah Mi feel blue fi true wen mi tink bout yu Blue like di sky lingahrin pramis af rain In di leakin lite in di hush af a evenin twilite Wen mi membah how fus time Di two a wi come een- it did seem Like a lang lang rivah dat is wide an deep Sometime wi woz silent like di langwidge a rackstone Some time wi woodah sing wi rivah sang as wi a wine a galang Sometime wi jus cool an caam andah plenty shady tree Sometime sawfly lappin bamboo root as dem swing an sway Sometime casadin carefree doun a steep gully bank Sometime turbulent in tempament wi flood wi bank But weddah ebb ar flow tru rain tru drout Wi nevah stray far fram love rigid rout Ole-time sweet-awt Up till now mi still cyann andanstan Ow wi get bag doun inna somuch silt an san Rockston debri lag-jam Sohtil wi ad woz fi flow wi saparet pawt Now traversin di tarrid terran a love landscape Runnin fram di polueshan af a cantrite awt Mi lang fi di marvelous miracle a hurricane Fi carry mi goh a meetin stream agen Lamentid mi saltid fate Sohmizin seh it too late

It weard ow life wit det kyan canspyah Fi shattah di awts most fragile diziah Ow histri an byagrafi kyan plat gense yu An dem 'angst' an dem 'anomie gang-up pon yu Afro-german warrior woman From hamburg via bremen Den finally Berlin It woz in di dazzlin atmosfare A di black radical bookfair Dat mi site yu Sweet sistah Brite-eyed like hope Like a young antelope Who couda cope Wid di daily deflowahin a di spirit Wit di evryday erowshan a di soul Two passin clouds you and I Inna di dezert a di sky Exchingin vaypah But in di commerc a di awt Woz it fair trade in regret In love an lauftah? Mi nevah know Mi couldn tell Mi shouda site seh Tru all di learnin Di teachin Rizistin An assistin Di lovin Di givin Organizin An difyin Dat di kaizah a darkness Did kyapcha yu awt Dat di lass time mi si yu Would be di lass time mi si yu Dat you woz free Fallin screamin Terteen stanzahs doun Yu final poem in blood pan di groun Dat soh sudden dat soh soon You wouda fly out Pon a won way tickit to ghana Gaan ketch up wid you paas Mongst yu ancestaz Wi give tanks Fi di life Yu share wid wi Wi give tanks Fi di lite Yu shine pon wi Wi give tanks Fi di love Yu showah pon wi Wi give tanks Fi yu memahri

I was wondering if I could shape this passion Just as I wanted in solid fire. I was wondering if the strange combustion of my days The tension of the world inside of me And the strength of my heart were enough. I was wondering if I could stand as tall, While the tide of the sea rose and fell. If the sky would recede as I went, Or the earth would emerge as I came To the door of the morning, locked against the sun. I was wondering if I could make myself Nothing but fire, pure and incorruptible. The wound of the wind on my face Would be healed by the work of my life Or the growth of the pain in my sleep Would be stopped in the strife of my days. I am wondering if the agony of years Could be traced to the seed of an hour. If the roots that spread out in the swamp Ran too deep for the issuing flower. I was wondering if I could find myself All that I am in all that I could be. If all the population of stars Would be less than the things I could utter And the challenge of space in my soul Be filled by the shape I become. I walk slowly in the wind, Watching myself in things I did not make; In jumping shadows and in limping cripples Dust on earth and houses tight with sickness Deep constant pain, the dream without sleep. I walk slowly in the wind, Hearing myself in the loneliness of a child In woman's grief, which is not understood In coughing dogs when midnight lingers long On stones, on streets and then on echoing stars, That burn all night and suddenly go out. I walk slowly in the wind Knowing myself in every moving thing In years and days and words that mean so much Strong hands that shake, long roads that walk And deeds that do themselves. And all this world and all these lives to live. I walk slowly in the wind, Remembering scorn and naked men in darkness And huts of iron rivetted to earth. Cold huts of iron stand upon this earth Like rusting prisons Each is well marked and each wide roof is spread Like some dark wing Casting a shadow or living a curse. I walk slowly in the wind To lifted sunset red and gold and dim A long brown river slanting to an ocean A fishing boat, a man who cannot drown. I walk slowly in the wind And birds are swift, the sky is blue like silk. From the big sweeping ocean of water An iron ship rusted and brown achors itself. And the long river runs like a snake Silent and smooth. I walk slowly in the wind. I hear my footsteps echoing down the tide Echoing like a wave on the sand or a wing on the wind Echoing echoing A voice in the soul, a laugh in the funny silence. I walk slowly in the wind I walk because I cannot crawl or fly.

If I woz a tap-natch poet Like Chris Okigbo Derek Walcot Ar T.S.Eliot Ah woodah write a poem Soh dam deep Dat it bittah-sweet Like a precious Memory Whe mek yu weep Whe mek yu feel incomplete Like wen yu lovah leave An dow defeat yu kanseed Still yu beg an yu plead Till yu win a repreve An yu ready fi rack steady But di muzik done aready Still Inna di meantime Wid mi riddim Wid mi rime Wid mi ruff base line Wid mi own sense a time Goon poet haffi step in line Caw Bootahlazy mite a gat couple touzan But Mandela fi im Touzans a touzans a touzans a touzans If I woz a tap-natch poet Like Kamau Brathwaite Martin Carter Jayne Cortez ar Amiri Baraka Ah woodah write a poem Soh rude An rootsy An subversive Dat it mek di goon poet Tun white wid envy Like a candhumble/ voodoo/ kumina chant A ole time calypso ar a slave song Dat get ban But fram granny Rite Dung To Gran Pickney Each an evry wan Can recite dat-dey wan Still Inna di meantime Wid mi riddim Wid mi rime Wid mi ruff base line Wid mi own sense a time Goon poet haffi step in line Caw Bootahlazy mite a gat couple touzan But Mandela fi im Touzans a touzans a touzans a touzans If I woz a tap-natch poet Like Tchikaya U'tamsi Nicholas Guillen Ar Lorna Goodison An woodah write a poem Soh beautiful dat it simple Like a plain girl Wid good brains An nice ways Wid a sexy dispozishan An plenty compahshan Wid a sweet smile An a suttle style Still Mi naw goh bow an scrape An gwan like a ape Peddlin noh puerile parchment af etnicity Wid ongle a vaig fleetin hint af hawtenticity Like a black Lance Percival in reverse Ar even worse A babblin bafoon whe looze im tongue No sah Nat atall Mi gat mi riddim Mi gat mi rime Mi gat mi ruff base line Mi gat mi own sense a time Goon poet bettah step in line Caw Bootahlazy mite a gat couple touzan But Mandela fi im Touzans a touzans a touzans a touzans