“Song of the Banana Man” by Evan Jones

Touris, white man, wipin his face,
Met me in Golden Grove market place.
He looked at m’ol’ clothes brown wid stain ,
An soaked right through wid de Portlan rain,
He cas his eye, turn up his nose,
He says, ‘You’re a beggar man, I suppose?’

On a recent podcast interview with Dr. Paul Jones, MD, I was inspired by the fact that he can still recite this poem that he learned in his childhood growing up in Jamaica. The poet, Evan Jones, borrows aspects of the local Jamaican patois dialect to create powerful imagery and emotion. While harvesting bananas might not be the most glorious and respected job, this poem is about a man that takes great pride in his work and his life. We could all use some inspiration to take pride in ourselves, to take inspiration from our work, to find joy in life. Here we have it from the “lowly” Banana Man.

Watch the Videos

The poem comes alive when read out loud.

From the “Favorite Poem Project,” George Scott reflects on the poem and his life, then he reads “The Song of the Banana Man” by Evan Jones.

A young student recites the poem with gusto!

Song of the Banana Man

— by Evan Jones

Touris, white man, wipin his face,
Met me in Golden Grove market place.
He looked at m’ol’ clothes brown wid stain ,
An soaked right through wid de Portlan rain,
He cas his eye, turn up his nose,
He says, ‘You’re a beggar man, I suppose?’
He says, ‘Boy, get some occupation,
Be of some value to your nation.’
I said, ‘By God and dis big right han
You mus recognize a banana man.

‘Up in de hills, where de streams are cool,
An mullet an janga swim in de pool,
I have ten acres of mountain side,
An a dainty-foot donkey dat I ride,
Four Gros Michel, an four Lacatan,
Some coconut trees, and some hills of yam,
An I pasture on dat very same lan
Five she-goats an a big black ram,
Dat, by God an dis big right han
Is de property of a banana man.

‘I leave m’yard early-mornin time
An set m’foot to de mountain climb,
I ben m’back to de hot-sun toil,
An m’cutlass rings on de stony soil,
Ploughin an weedin, diggin an plantin
Till Massa Sun drop back o John Crow mountain,
Den home again in cool evenin time,
Perhaps whistling dis likkle rhyme,
Praise God an m’big right han
I will live an die a banana man.

‘Banana day is my special day,
I cut my stems an I’m on m’way,
Load up de donkey, leave de lan
Head down de hill to banana stan,
When de truck comes roun I take a ride
All de way down to de harbour side-
Dat is de night, when you, touris man,
Would change your place wid a banana man.
Yes, by God, an m’big right han
I will live an die a banana man.

‘De bay is calm, an de moon is bright
De hills look black for de sky is light,
Down at de dock is an English ship,
Restin after her ocean trip,
While on de pier is a monstrous hustle,
Tallymen, carriers, all in a bustle,
Wid stems on deir heads in a long black snake
Some singin de sons dat banana men make,
Like, Praise God an m’big right han
I will live an die a banana man.

Den de payment comes, an we have some fun,
Me, Zekiel, Bredda and Duppy Son.
Down at de bar near United Wharf
We knock back a white rum, bus a laugh,
Fill de empty bag for further toil
Wid saltfish, breadfruit, coconut oil.
Den head back home to m’yard to sleep,
A proper sleep dat is long an deep.
Yes, by God, an m’big right han
I will live an die a banana man.

So when you see dese ol clothes brown wid stain,
An soaked right through wid de Portlan rain,
Don’t cas your eye nor turn your nose,
Don’t judge a man by his patchy clothes,
I’m a strong man, a proud man, an I’m free,
Free as dese mountains, free as dis sea,
I know myself, an I know my ways,
An will sing wid pride to de end o my days
Praise God an m’big right han
I will live an die a banana man.’