Short, sweet and simple, the residents from Region 3, sympathize with Guyana’s loss, Dave Martin, a humble hero, who humored the world with the hem and haw of his and hers from the Caribbean.
“The Glory Of Dave Martin’s Story”
Lovingly, they called him Dave,
He was such a Guyanese crave.
We have to historically save,
The folklore songs, to us, he gave.
Guyana’s great son, David Martin,
His memories will be filed in a bin.
He made music even from a tin,
Telling story about fish and fin.
Some addressed him as David,
To all Guyanese, he was related.
His teasing lyrics, all locally slated,
The picture of the Caribbean, he painted.
Oh, what a funny tale he told on cricket,
Poised in defense of his home wicket.
Dave’s guitar, wacked so witty and wicked,
But his tongue and twang, not to be twisted.
Rum and coke, coconut water with gin,
The man was always not out, with his foot in.
On any subject or object, he could stick and pick a pin,
With sentiment and a sweet smile, he didn’t salt soap nor sin.
Born at Hague, bred as a Demerara kid,
As a country boy, everything he did.
But the bigger picture, he quickly bid,
Talents with the Tradewinds, he never hid.
Writing and singing, Dave was brilliant and brave,
Society and congeniality, he ploughed a way to pave.
Words of wisdom, like a washing Essequibo wave,
With a prince or pauper, he knew just how to behave.
Dave loved Berbice, their Molson Creek and Crabwood Creek,
Venturing freely from Bonasaki Creek to Marudi Creek.
His preference and taste for Kaieteur Fall over Niagara Fall,
Kept his Nation’s head high, proudly walking tall.
Guyana’s borders, neighbors tried to claim and rupture,
Not a blade of grass nor one curass, came Dave’s suture.
Structure with rhyme and rhythm, struck with a culture,
Generations past and present, will provide for the future.
Dave and the Tradewinds stayed and played, at many an Inn,
Custom and tradition not to lose, nor a competition or race to win.
And so the story goes, with jamoon and our Pomeroon so certain,
Dave Martin’s honeymoon, in Guyana, down came, the final curtain.
Yours respectfully,
Jai Lall
