Creative Works
A bit like Tai Chi
The sea moves rhythmically
Ebbing and flowing
Poor woman blues
Wake up in di morning, when di arrod clock ring,
Eat di breakfast in di garden, an’ he practise his swing.
Put di chief in di pocket of di Savile Row suit,
Chaffeur man he thinking, di boss as plenty fruit.
He got plenty money, he want much more,
Oh man, he greedy rich, di ‘i is plenty poor.
Yonder come Miss Tulip, har older than har year,
You can tell har by har squint eye, and di look she war.
Har got di pain in har shoulder, and di ouse maid knee,
Har stand in di bus queue, she fifty-three.
Har ‘ave no money, many penny to har name,
Oh man, har is plenty poor, it a crying shame.
Dey meet in di office, har got plenty stress.
He got plenty time, har get plenty less.
He gotta mek a phone call, har creeps out di room,
Woo talk his matey, Tulip wilt on har broom.
He got plenty money, he want much more,
Oh man, he greedy rich, harshe plenty poor.
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