The Rasta man next door
Was clean short and dark,
A proud Zulu man. Abandoned,
He became his own best friend,
Appreciating each sun rise and
Each sun set breezes.

He ploughed
His garden green and glowing
He danced with his garden boots,
To a sweet Jamaican Reggae music,
He waved his dreadlocks from side to side,
Up and down as he stamped and clapped,
He fell in love with the
Music, and danced shamelessly.
For a moment I didn’t notice his
Disability as he danced, he talked, he

Lost in his own Paradise
The Rasta man next door a gentle
Man Illiterate he was proud of what
He had achieved in the grace of the
Lord The Rasta man next door Little

Children’s best friend Telling fairy tale
Stories in his old round hut He talked
And he laughed in joy with them
The rasta man next door a gentle man