Massa Day Will Never Done

By Ateebo

After a life of serving his master well
This politician claim he one way ticket to Hell
Satan take him one side an start to squeeze he hand
He say, "Down here, boy, your skills are in real demand
I have a crew of demons whose jobs are on the line
Since you left office, boy, they're facing the breadline
I know this is your area of expertise
Just handle them and give your father an ease. "

Like Satan, he know all ‘bout finding work for idle hands
He decide to start dem off wit counting ocean sands
De demons start to steups and screw up dey mouth
Dey want to know if is de sands in de North or in de South
If is only wet sand or de dry sand on de beach
Forget bout sand on breeze wey dey cyah reach
It had to be de sand stick up in dey toes
Or only de sand grains dey finding in dey nose.

De politician shake he head and he had to smile
Ah could tell yuh been in my Trini land a while
But not even dem Trinis who all born yesterday
With such blatant insubordination could get away
In Trinidad, fellahs, my word was the law
If I call a man ah ass, he would say “Hee Haw”
So pick up yuh buckets and start counting where you stand
My checkers will ensure dat yuh doh get outta hand.

In Trinidad, I had sufferers like you painting stones
In de hot sun all day long, only drying up dey bones
Dey had to take dey money, grin and tell me “Thanks”
I did get my power kicks from all dese little pranks
Some ah dem did tief but ah let all dem feel
Dat in de end is dey who get de bettah deal
People up dey have dis convenient belief
Dat God does laugh if ah thief steal from ah thief.

In de end dey learning only how to scam
How to take dey sardine money an’ blow it on ham
How to work a hoe in slow motion de whole day
How to make invisible men collect real pay
How to hew wood and have dem women carry water
How to come when called, like lambs to de slaughter
To spin and spin like brainless tops in mud
And call me Father as if I and dem is blood.

Satan fold he arms, throw back he head and smile
Your mother did tell me you were your father's child
It's a long time that I've been waiting for this day
Whitey tired now, and it's high time that I make my way
From external foe to the one inside the brain
Of my rising son of neocolonialism
You have mastered my game and learned your lessons well
The time has come for a Trini to control Hell.

© 2006 - Ateebo
Posted with kind permission of the author.