I can’t believe it! 2010 hath caught me with my pants down, literally. Crop-Over about to start and I haven’t penned a single calypso. First warning came when Ridley Greene reminded me that Celebrities Tent was opening at the Yacht Club soonest. Next, “Mr Levi”, a yute from this area, was out of the blocks with “Wuk up for Ryan Brathwaite” which has been played at least nine million times at my house in the last three days. My grandchildren dance to it non-stop. Mr Levi is better known in these parts as “Earon” and don’t be surprised if he flies to the finals on his own wings. He’s “sexy” too, say all the girls who see his picture. Check out Mr Levi.Well, better late than never. And when I mentioned being literally caught with my pants down, it’s true. Lately I’ve been falling asleep late at night watching music videos in my towel. Then my dreams get mixed up with the videos so that I wake up totally confused as to if something really happened or it was all dreams. This calypso, Football Song, is about such an experience:I was chilling out on YouTube, having a splendid time; butt up on Shakira, and we start to lime. When I praised her sexy dotcom, and how she could shake that thing, she jumped on a log, doing the dog, and began to sing:Blow my vuvuzela, sailor, blow my vuvu; if you blow my vuvuzela, Lowdown, I will blow yours too. Show me how to get F, show me to get C; but if all you make is B-flat, that’s alright with me. Your turn . . .Well Lowdown couldn’t back off, he had to find a verse; Shakira looked so lovely, his throat went dry with thirst. I focused on the World Cup, where he who scores is king, jumped on the log, doing the dog, and began to sing:Shake my waka waka, Shakira, shake it up and down, if you shake my waka waka, Shakira, it will touch the ground. Tsa mina mina mina, zanga liwa, ah! You won’t find a nicer waka, in the whole of Africa.Well if you could see us dancing, bopping all around; I blew her vuvuzela, she shook the waka up and down. It was just like heaven, but alas it couldn’t last; the wife looked round the door, saw the towel on the floor, and lit into my (bad word):
If you blow her vuvuzela, sailor, if you touch that vuvu; I goin’ shake your waka backa, you won’t know it when I’m through. Turn off the damn computer, yuh sleeping like yuh dead; brush yuh teets and wee, flush the WC, and get yuh old tail in bed. And . . . Blow my vuvuzela, huzzy, blow my vuvu; if you . . . And so on.This next calypso is about a similar YouTube date with Rihanna which got messed up by an ardent fowl-cock. You may recall how famous band violinist Arnold Meanwell was allegedly stumbling home one Sunday morning looking a little shabby just as his mother stepped out of the house dressed for church in full regalia.And she was giving it to him good and proper for the neighbours’ benefit when her ostrich-plumed hat blew off. And Cheeseman’s fowl-cock swooped off the paling and had it treaded five times before they could stop him. Mrs M flounced back into the house, bolted the door and was not seen again all day.In my dream, a similar fate befell Rihanna. Hear the chorus: “Cheeseman, hold that fowl-cock, get him off of Ri-Ri’s head; never mind she looks like a macaw, now her hair turn red. The lady has her bodyguard, ready to shoot him dead; so, Cheeseman, get your fowl-cock, off of Ri-Ri’s head…”This last one is about a Bajan friend who kept teasing his Jamaican wife and calling her “Dudus”. Until the lady lost her cool and retaliated. Hear him: “Dudus, bring my coffee, Dudus, make my bed; Dudus, you sure those h’ackees ripe, I thought they should be red”. But when she grabble his throat like a market goat, he tremble like he had the flu, saying, “Doan mek no fuss, I din’t mean ‘Dudus’, I went to say ‘Doo-Doo!’”Lowdown ready!
