An Echo From Africa
Da ruction happen by Nicko's place
Las' week, in da deada da night.
Da copper he very near cop da case
Accounta da fish-shop fight
In da great beeg international way
Dat wrecka da oyster bar.
Now Nicko he grinda da tooth an' say,
'Da white-a man rule, by gar!'
Sammo, da slush, wit' da dark-tan face,
Scale an' clean-a fish
Long time he toila by Nicko's place,
Washa da dirty dish.
But Nicko he say, 'Da t'ings get slow;
Dis war make da beezness slack.
Dat Sammo, da slush, he have to go.'
So Nicko he sacka da black.
Las-a night, when Sammo he come for da mon',
His eye got da look like-a dirt.
But, Nicko, he say to heem, like in fun,
'Take-a dat, black scuma da eart'.'
Den Sammo he scowl aroun' da shop
An' he grabba da long, fat eel,
An' he smacka poor Nicko right in da chop
So he fall head over heel!
But Nicko come up wi' da Musso glare,
An' he seize-a da ten-poun' schnap.
Ah, I only wisha dat you been dere;
You see-a da bonza scrap!!
Dey smash-a da souce-bot, smash-a da chair,
Dey smash-a da glass partish,
Dey smash-a da pot-plant topa da stair;
An' da place all cover wit' fish!
Den Sammo he tread on da gar-fish head,
An' da foot fly up in da air,
An' he come-a down flop an' lie like dead
When he banga da head on da chair.
An' Nicko he grab heem quick by da feet
An' drag heem outa da door,
An' he say, as he fling heem into da street,
'Dat feenish my Afric war.'
But Nicko he same like a change man now;
All over da shop he fuss;
He flash-a da eye an' he knit-a da brow,
An' he stick out da jaw like-a Muss.
An' he look each customer close by da face
For da sign of da bad, black drop.
Den he grind-a da tooth if he twig da trace:
'Abyssin! Get outta my shop!'