Lawd Jesus! Ms. Mattie the Pope Dead!

Mi cyan even go to mi bed,

Mi up all night fi nine night straight,

Mi cyan even eat one piece a food inna mi plate,

Lawd mi haffi go do someting,

Like buy grape juice an celebrate im living,

Mi so upset cyan done,

Yu wudda tink sey me was wan nun,

De Pope dead, ere we are nine days later,

Still a read de newspaper fi get news pon im,

When mi cyan get no news,

Mi go a church all de way uppa Great House Mews,

Mi look so grief stricken, de torist dem hask

"What's wrong with you?"

Ms. Mattie, mi heart full right hup to de brim,

Come mek we sing some Jamaican hymns,

A knoe mi kina prim likle bit,

But mi haffi sit dung an meditate bout it,

Lawd Ms. Mattie! Mi belly bottom full,

The Pope nuh dead,

Now im one, way dung inna de grung,

When mi did hear de news, mi run ina mi bedroom slippers

Fi go see hif is really true, I wus so confused,

De pope dead, mi feel so blue,

Mi wan drink wan rum like jamaican people do,

But me no wan hen up like koonoomunoo,

What's a catolic to do?

Mr. Pope all mi cyan do a pray fi yu.

*In Memory Of Pope John Paul II