WHITEY

“WHITEY”

By Mike Wilson

There is a man called Whitey
Who lives down on my street.
He’s always nice and pleasant
But he is kind of unique.

My neighbour on the one side
Is a very righteous man.
He prays to Mecca every day
But really hates his Uncle Sam.

My other neighbor Joseph
Is something of a bore
‘Cos he’s got lots of children
And his wife’s just making more.

The family across the road
Are sometimes very nice
And I really try to help them
Accept our way of life.

I don’t always wear a turban
When I go off to school
And my long hair is a talking point
But I think I’m really cool.

My dad is on the bus route
Six days of the week.
And he’s working really very hard
To keep this country Sikh.

At school they talk in English
Which is really rather sad,
‘Cos all my mates and me
Talk the talk from Hyderabad.

There’s a removal van at Whitey’s
I saw from down the road.
They haven’t put much in it
It’s just a little load.

I wonder where they’re going now
It all seems odd to me
To leave a lovely street like this
And such good company.

My dad says that they’re all to blame
For the mess the country’s in.
There’s still too many of them here
But in time we will win!