“The Windrush” by Valerie Mason-John
They say she was pregnant
Came to see full of me
Weighing her down in shoes dem
Baggy and all
They say the ship nearly sink
Me mudda never sleep a wink
They say Inglan full of promise
All my mudda do was reminisce
A stowaway she was
Hidden between the trunks
But she came
Coz my poppa came
She was full of me
And I was gonna make her rich
Her tummy bulging
Sea sick
Morning sick
Home sick
She had heard, London streets
Were paved with gold
But what kinda nancy story was dis?
Obia playing his tricks
Me mudda and poppa feeling his licks
London streets are paved with sleet
Me mudda cried every night
And me granny wrote back
I thought you sailed on the Goldrush
No Granny, the Windrush
And the streets are paved with sleet
Sleet what dat?
Some kinda fancy name for your man
Granny wrote back
I arrived on the dot
What happened to black fella time?
Me mudda ask the nurse
Me poppa sneered
Inglan is a bitch
This was Inglan’s crime
No rice ‘n’ peas
No stew pot or dumpling
No ackee ‘n’ salt fish
No cassava leaf
But me mudda and poppa survived
Malnutrition
Humiliation
Interrogation
Assimilation
Welcome to the land of honey and milk
The posters said back home
Sweet honey and money
Obia playing his tricks
Giving me mudda and poppa his licks
But their baby gonna be all right
Me mudda prayed
While me granny cursed
The only gold she see when she visit Inglan
Was gold pon me poppa’s teeth
And tea what dat?
Where the bush tea? Gunja tea?
But me mudda still sing to me every night
Cooing in my ear
All her babies gonna be all right
Despite the night
She set sail
Pon de Windrush.