Calling England Home

Black and been here since 1949

West London jaw grind, "Tek It Easy"

We saw him, you saw him

Walking along the canal last night

And what a joy to buck up upon him

At the carnival today

To hear him speak about

The dances and the bands

At the Paramount

The spots you couldn't mix

With white in or dance in

Remembering London

How he been slapped so hard

With the lash, Sam Selvon say

And it take him sixty years

Before he could call England home

He must have come here in black and white, 1959

Time longer than twine

So long ago, he don't remember being a child

Just a suit and steamer trunk

Upon a ship which took a good six weeks to cross

We sat at his kitchen table

And I filmed him on the sly

But he wasn't saying much

At least nothing I could put in a poem

Instead, he showed me photographs

With the dashiki and the fez

With Michael X at the Ambience

Yeah

Outside, the night came in

And we had moved so far away

From calling England home

I've lived here longer than home, since 1989

Remember Harlesden in the spring time

I used to walk from Cricklewood to Marylebone High Street

To cut up meat, to punch out dough

I was never asked to wait tables

Or to serve scones or coffee

I worked in the basement

But I soon learned to tie my apron

In a way which retained some dignity

And in my first summer above the corner shop

I listened to rare groove on pirate radio

I was flung so far from any notion of nation

How long do you have to live in a place

Before you can call it home?