Scott's Head, my village
my home, my birthplace
a village so small, so hidden
a place where, everybody know
each other
(image:maureen61.blogpost.com)
everyday the fishermen go out to sea
upon return a horn is blown, signaling there's fish for sale
on weekdays the kids would walk to school
hand in hand with brothers, sisters and friends
on Saturdays the farmers for upper south would come
with vegetables, and ground provision for sale
occasionally, other food merchants would come with
bananas, grapefruits and other goods for sale
on Sunday mornings, the villagers would go to church,
kids would spend the afternoon strolling around the village with friends
my village, a place where tourists would sometimes come
to enjoy our beautiful beach
Cashacou
my home, my birthplace
Scott's Head
my beautiful village!
©1991 Sylia Andrew
