By JGSappleton
Copyright
Man from Jamaica
I met a man from Jamaica, who goes by the name Cedjka
He is tall like a bamboo tree and sweet like a papaya
His words are so smooth, made me wonder if he could soothe it
So I decided to test him to determine if he qualified for a work permit
The man was a stallion, so I asked for his particulars in a resubmit
I had to do some interview, determine to take him to Mount-view
But he had the same idea and took me to places I never knew
Before long we were stuck like glue, calling each other baby, Phew!
The candy was long and sticky but the wine made up for pain I got use to
When it was time to say goodbye, I held his hand and sobbed and he cried too
We learned that the road would be filled with stress but proceeded nonetheless
Our love grew when Digicel encouraged us to talk dirty telephone sex
We filled out the forms and paid our fee, he was finally coming to star in my triplex movie
one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock rock, available anytime I knocked his ball cock
Immigration officer, I plea, please stamp the paper, issue the visa, stop being a buddy blocker
Our status changed from in process to decision made and our dreams became a present reality
He arrived in the land of opportunity, no longer had to worry about scarcity
we locked the doors tight, undressed for the adventures of the night, got down to the nitty gritty
Man on top, throwing it back, until Revenue Canada start taking his tax
Officials demanded the world income, declared this was only a rule of thumb
feeding the greed of their vigilance committee, keep us from having a tidy sum
Papa had to get paid, so off to work like a young Turk,
working in the factory as a shipping clerk,
moving to the sounds of the bongo drum
Tired and worn from a hard day at work,
he sapped his head with bay rum,
had no strength to squeeze the beach plum
At the end of the week there is no money for the movie or even time to get groovy
We lived together in the same home but lost the passion and meaning of Shalom
No time for quickies, the bills had big willy trapped beneath the pressure dome
His eyes are sad, my heart no longer feels glad,
Cant remember the last time we celebrated Yom Kippur
I am so mad that he is too sleeply to notice that I am scantily clad,
Waiting for him on my lilly pad, here comes flipper shad!
So the next time you feel like love is for free, just go to Jamaica to climb a big tree
Look over the mountain and holler his name, wait for the one who comes with the best repartee
An African honeybee you will certainly see but Canada will convert him into a mechanical worker bee
And if by chance you have found real love, take out your boxing glove and shout whoopee
for though the wait is over another journey has began, be careful not to let your love die along with the wail of the Banchee
Before you face the battle of the Bismark sea, remember to schedule a date with your mate over by the banyan tree.
