Ballad written in shaky pen hand in school
copy book on a bus bumping around
the road on the shores of
Fiji going to the town of
Ferlinghetti and his 11 year old son
Australian lad dressed in red
Ferlinghetti, beard on his head
Oh -ho, for the roar of the motor uphill
Oh -ho, for the feathery grass standing still
Islands that rise from blue sea
Oh -ho, the breezy sky that hangs over me
Oh -ho, the dirt road that gives us away
Oh -ho, the black lady so big and so fat
From eating the taro root,
Indian wives in white cloth
Oh -ho, the green frog that
palm -roof huts with doorsteps grass -green
bus stop squeaky -wheeled
Fiji boy opens the beer with his teeth
The bottle sits down on the floor by his feet
A cowrie -shelled purse and
Low tide by the ocean road,
Mabenga sits on the low sea
Her men walk through fire
tasting the island's strange soul
Oh -ho, for hibiscus, mail pouch on the nail
Oh -ho, for the palm frond
Oh -ho, tin -roofed deserts
Oh -ho, blessed freedom on
Oh -ho, virgin hills, coconuts in your hand
Englishman's leftover rose
But cursed be the merchants and
Capitalists hiding behind
Their business is ruined for
The wind that flaps the banana leaf, ho!
Cocks that peck in the garden and crow,
For the switchbacks on red dirt hillsides
Cows walk by the jungle and
Stop for bananas and pee as we must