Dem beg him, beg him, till dem sick
an tired—him wouldn sign him name
to what de most a dem waan lick
de opposition with. Him seh, ‘Same
knife stick sheep stick goat,’ an walk
out of de room. De big-man bus
a funny laugh. Nobody never talk
to him like dat. Him seh, ‘Trust
me, eediot mus learn.’ So, first of all,
we kick de eediot out de group. An den
we start de rumour seh him bawl
fi mercy when we check de books again—
yuh never know him tief? Yes, man, tief
like puss, unless yuh watchin him! An now
dat him expose, pure grief
to get another job. Him shoulda bow!
Me scratch your back, you scratch mine;
but if yuh tun traitor yuh must pay.
Dyamn fool! De eediot bwoy was tryin
to block de road. We move him out de way.
from I been there, sort of: New and Selected Poems (Carcanet, 2006), copyright© Mervyn Morris 2006, used by permission of the author and the publisher.