Dada taught me cards.
Sitting in his suit of pants and vest.
A fistful of joker-red hair strewn across his brow.
His big belly like a cannon ball.

In the Carribean
at the end of day
sun drops suddenly
like a fire ball
behind forested hills

Say, Good mornin, Granny Maama
Good mornin, Grandpa Taata.
Good mornin when it rainin.
Good mornin when sun shinin.
Good mornin.

One two three,
you can dance like me.

With arms held high
that's how you start,
let deh music touch your heart.

One two three,
you can dance like me.

Jumbie jump high
Jumbie jump low
Jumbie jumpin to calypso

Jumbie doin a dance
in de silk-cotton tree
he waitin for jouvay
an steelban music to breakaway

Dada has stories from Calcutta
wrapped up in his big belly.
When he belched they would unravel.

Je m'appelle Yusef

J'ai quatorze ans

J'aime jouer au football et lire des bandes dessinees

J'ai deux freres plus ages

Je fais semblant que je ne suis pas bon en francais

Sugarcake!
Sugarcake!
Ah chile sweetie ting
a Trini granny could mek:

Little toad little toad mind yourself
mind yourself let me plant my corn
plant my corn to feed my horse
feed my horse to run my race – the sea is full of more than I know

I was born with a map of Australia on my face;
it was beautiful, my mother told me – 
there was nobody like me in the whole wide world
who could trace the edges of down under