Was a man named
Baby Juke
With roots in Rhymington
The village where chiren
Hollered at the moon
And wrote letters to messiah

Askin why
Dem rivers always ran dry
Thru Rhymington...

Askin why  
Tears be flowin
But still dem rivers be runnin dry
Thru Rhymington...

Baby Juke played a mean flute
Blowin cool water over
hearts achin
And spirits brakin
Thirsting for salvation...

When you're born
On Juke's side o' town

When the only life you know
Is brown, black
And blue

When daddy's dead
And broken
By thirty-two

And there's nothing Mammy can do
But cry
And try to carry on
In Rhymington

And there's nothing you can do
But cry
And play your flute
And try to blow your blues
Out of Rhymington

You become
Baby Juke

You become somebody
Every black boy and girl
Wanna be

You blaze a trail
Out of poverty

Out of Rhymington
To stardom
And notoriety

Only to find
Dem rivers run dry there too
For the likes of you

And brown, black
And blue
Is all you'll ever be

Even if you are a musical genius

Even if you are legendary

Like Baby Juke....

AYO

~ P