Passage From Trinidad Poem by Angela Wybrow

Wi board di boat at Port O' Spain:
Bound fah England - land of rain;
Land of frost an land of snow;
Land weh di sun hardly glow.

Wi leave our homeland far behine -
A betta life wi ope to find.
Wi leave our lovely tropical shore,
Wondering wah wi are heading fah.

Wi travel across di mighty ocean;
Mi head, it full of mixed emotion.
Wi travel to England miles wey -
Di journey, it take many a day.

Smaddy shout out ‘Land ahoy! ' -
Mi head, it full of wanda an joy.
Bout arriving, wi suh excited,
As, wid our mum, wi reunited.

Along di Solent, our big ship it sail -
Wi stand up pon deck holding di rail.
Finally wi reach Southampton docks -
Upon di sights, our eyes demma locked.

Wi now inna England: di Promised Land:
To us, would di people extend a hand?
By di people, would wi be accepted?
Would wi be wah they had expected?

Wi wanda ef deh wi will fit in,
As wi dressed inna a much darka skin.
Fram our minds wi find it hawd to cast out,
Di worrying thoughts an niggling doubts.

With us, wi bring our culture an style;
Wi ope to spread a big cheery smile.
Wi hear dis di land of ‘ope an glory' -
Bout dis land, wi hear many er story.

Inna London town, there much nize an dut.
An by di name calling, wi feel much hurt.
By some people, wi folk are shunned,
And Ooh! Ow wi missis our tropical sun.

Some people passing, they stop an they tare;
To approach us directly, they wouldn't dare.
Gainful employment, wi folk need to find,
But, by some bosses, wi get left behine.

Wi need to find a place to call home -
Round many a house, some of us roam.
Posted inna windows, some of us find
‘No blacks allowed' wrote pon a sign.

Some Brits, they feel that they far superior,
And they make us folk feel far inferior.
Some Brits, they determined to chuck us wey,
But wi just as determined to ignore dem an stay.