The Windrush

We sat out on that evening, our thoughts drawn to the dawn
The Windrush would be leaving bound for England come the morn
Through a haze of smoke and rum he trawled his memory
Told some long forgotten tales, smiled then said to me

You'll be all right there, you'll be all right there
You know there's jobs to fill, they need your skill
You'll be all right there

And so we left Jamaica, said farewell to our roots
We came ashore at Tilbury in our hats and Sunday suits
Driven by a vision of pavements lined with gold
Freedom, wealth and plenty, the dream that we'd been sold
As winter came a-creeping, I found myself alone
I missed the Caribbean sun, my family, friends back home
We had to beg from room to room, no coloureds wanted here
The mighty Empire I'd admired had given birth to fear
Can anyone imagine how I felt inside
The anger and frustration that I forced myself to hide
I worked for just a pittance, compared to other folks
Forced to sit and listen to endless racist jokes
The days have turned to decades since I came across the sea
I'm told my city soon will have a black majority
Multiracial to its core but a slave of history
Privilege and poverty remain for all to see

Tom Patterson Folksinger on Youtube