As seen on a T-shirt
If you see de police
"Warner Brother"
Sunday, August 31, 2003
Jamaican Love Poem
You're the ackee in my saltfish
Condensed milk in my tea
The patty in my coco bread
Without you there is no me.
Just like coconut water
You're good for my heart
And Mr.Wray without his nephew
Is like when we are apart.
When you wrap your arms around me
Like banana leaf on blue draaws
There is nothing I wouldnt do for you
You know that im all yours.
I want to be with you always
Like when tin milk get short
An dem marry it with it to de mackerel
to make sure de mackerel get bought.
Like carrot juice on Sunday
Mango in the summertime
I cant get enough of you
Please tell me you will be mine.
Author: Rasta Shakesephere
You're the ackee in my saltfish
Condensed milk in my tea
The patty in my coco bread
Without you there is no me.
Just like coconut water
You're good for my heart
And Mr.Wray without his nephew
Is like when we are apart.
When you wrap your arms around me
Like banana leaf on blue draaws
There is nothing I wouldnt do for you
You know that im all yours.
I want to be with you always
Like when tin milk get short
An dem marry it with it to de mackerel
to make sure de mackerel get bought.
Like carrot juice on Sunday
Mango in the summertime
I cant get enough of you
Please tell me you will be mine.
Author: Rasta Shakesephere
CHINESE SICK LEAVE
Hung Chow calls in to work and says, "Hey, boss I not come work today, I really sick. I got headache, stomach ache and both my leg hurt. I not come work."
The boss says, "You know Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this I go to my wife and tell her give me sex. That makes everything better and I go work. You try that."
Two hours later Hung Chow calls again: "Boss, I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon. You got nice house."
Hung Chow calls in to work and says, "Hey, boss I not come work today, I really sick. I got headache, stomach ache and both my leg hurt. I not come work."
The boss says, "You know Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this I go to my wife and tell her give me sex. That makes everything better and I go work. You try that."
Two hours later Hung Chow calls again: "Boss, I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon. You got nice house."
An elderly Jamaican man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Jamaican pastry, 'Gizzada' wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally dozens of 'Gizzadas'.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the 'Gizzada' was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a 'Gizzada' at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a 'dutch-pot' by his wife...... "Move yu back-side!" she said, "Dem ya a fe you funeral."
Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally dozens of 'Gizzadas'.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the 'Gizzada' was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.
The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a 'Gizzada' at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a 'dutch-pot' by his wife...... "Move yu back-side!" she said, "Dem ya a fe you funeral."