De Swimp Mon Chronicles

De King Crab

De King Crab ben dat mos’ oldest fella
Tuh be in da Swimp Mon City Council celluh.
O’ all Council bubbuh dat kno’ dem sly tri’k,
De King Crab use all tuh git da mos’ ‘n ‘e tick.

Da fus tim’ de King Crab plan ‘e own race,
‘E real hous’ ben in da wrong Council place.
But Swimp Mon wink ‘n say, “Dat no mess”,
‘N git Fruit Mon ta get um nudduh right address.

‘E alltime tel’ dem new Council Buck
Dat if dey ben smart, dey won’ trus’ tuh luck.
‘E tell dem dat Swimp Mon heal dem right well,
If tuh dat little buckruh, dem Council vote dey sell.

De ol’ King Crab kno’ dis lesson da bes’,
‘Cus ‘e nebbuh sel ‘e vote fo’ da less.
‘E split up ‘e lan’ ‘n built ‘fordable hous’ on dem lot,
Fuh de many hom’ loan f’um da City ‘e got.

De King Crab now ack like de big potentate,
‘N on dat City Council ‘e do pontificate.
De Swimp Mon jus’ let dat ol’ Buck fuh ta rattle.
‘Cus wit’ ‘e slick word, dem res’ ack like cattle.

But jus’ now what De King Crab lik’in de mos’
Ben ‘e smiley ol’ picture in da pas’ Sat’da’ Post.
Fo’ dis little sop ‘e jus’ praise Swimpy Mon sound,
‘N still sell e’ ol’ self fuh da penny uh pound.

Dey ben dose on dat Council dat tin’k ‘e uh teacher,
But if da tru’th it ben know, ‘e jus’ uh ol’ leacher.
‘E line all ‘e pocket frum de public own purse,
‘N like Swinp Mon, jus’ ben anudduh ‘lected curse.

Lee Walton