Memories Of Paradise Plum

A lot of people keep telling me,
"Gal, Jamaica ain’t what it used to be"
"Chile tings so hard dung deh, dat everybody’s trying to leave"
"So those days you haf inna yuh head, from when yuh use to young,
Is nothing more than sweet memories like the taste of a paradise plum"

"Di gun mon dem a kill off the people dem inna some wicked an’ mafia style,
Is like some cowboy and Indian ting, gal, Jamaica has gone wild"
"So just sekkle yuh likkle self and keep yuh feet up deh pun di groung’,
An live off yuh precious memories so sweet like paradise plum"

But mi tell dem mi nu cyare, a deh mi born, a deh mi fi dead!
An it no matta if my sweet memories exists only inna fi mi head
People still live dung deh, some as content as dem could be
An’ yeah, mi know seh life hard, but beg-yuh show mi weh life is free?

Do you know what it’s like living in a country weh yuh truly don’t fit in?
When yuh cyant accept their culture or the immoral values dem believe in!
Mi so tired of eating processed food and fruit dat have no taste,
An’ the hypocritical way dem run the country and view everybody else wid distaste!
But one day, one day, mi a go back home, to my island weh my life begun
To live out the rest of my life, wid the sweet and sour of my paradise plum!

About the author

Paula Tracey-AnnWilliamson