Parang

Man, I suck me tooth when I hear

How dem croptime fiddlers lie,

And de wailing, kiss-me-arse flutes

That bring water to me eye!

Oh, when I t'ink how from young

I wasted time at de fetes,

I could bawl in a red-eyed rage

For desire turned to regret,

Not knowing the truth that I sang

At parang and la commette.

Boy, every damned tune them tune

Of love that go last forever

Is the wax and the wane of the moon

Since Adam catch body-fever.

I old, so the young crop won't

Have these claws to reap their waist,

But I know "do more" from "don't"

Since the grave cry out "Make haste!"

This banjo world have one string

And all man does dance to that tune:

That love is a place in the bush

With music grieving from far,

As you look past her shoulder and see

Like her one tear afterwards

The falling of a fixed star.

Yound men does bring love to disgrace

With remorseful, regretful words,

When flesh upon flesh was the tune

Since the first cloud raise up to disclose

The breast of the naked moon.

Anonymous submission.