Take some Picts, Celts and Silures
And let them settle,
Then overrun them with Roman conquerors.
Remove the Romans after approximately 400 years
Add lots of Norman French to some
Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Vikings, then stir vigorously.
Mix some hot Chileans, cool Jamaicans, Dominicans,
Trinidadians and Bajans with some Ethiopians, Chinese,
......
Why do you think you're better
If your culture is not the same?
Yes, maybe you seem different
But deep inside all are the same.
Why do they think they're better?
If one is black and one is white,
If one is man and one is woman.
They are the same, that is their right.
......
Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops
De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed fe rantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
......
Home is such a little word,
Which covers such a lot,
From the old man in his easy chair,
To the baby in his cot.
It doesn't have to be a place,
Of antiques, gold or splendor,
Just a simple little cottage,
Full of joy, and truth, and candour.
Where from understanding parents,
You learn, the right from wrong.
......
Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ our Saviour was born!
Earth's Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.
Chorus --
Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o'er the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
......
In de stegen van Genua klinkt zijn naam,
Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer, bard van het leven,
schrijver van overvloed en waarheid,
waar de zee zijn woorden kust.
Hij bouwt kathedralen van taal,
geen steen blijft onberoerd,
geen leugen blijft ongetoond.
Hij kijkt ons recht aan,
en vraagt:"Durf jij de wereld te zien?"
......
There was a hunter,
who lived for game.
His mind was strong,
but thoughts were lame.
He met a deer,
who changed his life.
She stabbed his heart,
with a hunting knife.
The mighty hunter,
......
Небо чисте, сонце ясне
День здаеться бути прекрасним
Да щось коробить душу,
Мабудь це війна, що залишае сушу.
Йде Москаль на Неньку
Бодай-тобі здих!
Та наші солдатики
Відстоять свій поріг!
......
I’ve done what I can
It’s out of my hands
It sucks that other people have hands
I mean, that’s why we love them
For their hands
We don’t want them to be puppets
At the mercy of ours
And in our deepest moments
......
Oh what spectacle of visage rendered bare before the world to suffer silent ignominious glare
On bended knee in humbled show, head and heart abashed, by how the mighty have been rendered low
Venerated glories of faded past, evanesced long ago. Now, chattel'd bondage to indignations rending soul and bone. The once reverent, now lie ‘neath heel and stone
The once mighty have been rendered low.
Made so by inglourious traitorous deeds, self inflicted upon thine sacred creed. Solely fervent in the certitude. We reap that, in which we sow.
O' how the mighty have been rendered low.
......