This poem is a song - it has a strong lyrical voice, and depends on rhyme and rhythm, as well as repetition to create a sense of a refrain or chorus. My bride she hav a red crew cut and she wear a Tartan sari a donkey jacket and some pumps on di squeak ovdi girls dat are pinching my sweeties – ven I return from di tickle ov my bride di shoppers always point and cry: Hey Singh, veryoo bin? Di milk is out ov date and di bread is alvays stale, di tings yohav on offer yoo never got in stock in di worst Indian shop on di Indian road – late in di midnight hour venyoo are wrap up quiet vendi precinct is concrete-cool vee cum down whispering stairs and sit on my stool, from behind di chocolate bars vee stare past di half-price window signs at di beaches ovdi UK in dibrighty moon – from di stool each night she say, How much do yoo charge for dat moon baby? from di stool each night I say, Is half di cost ovyoo baby, from di stool each night she say, How much does dat come to baby? from di stool each night I say, is priceless baby.

Singh Song! i run just one ov my daddy’s shops from 9 o’clock to 9 o’clock and he vunt me not to hav a break but ven nobody in, I do di lock – cos up di stairs is my newly bride vee share in chapatti vee share in di chutney after veehav made luv like ve rowing through Putney – venI return vid my pinnie untied di shoppers always point and cry: Hey Singh, veryoo bin? yor lemons are limes yor bananas are plantain, dis dirty little floor need a little bit of mop in di worst Indian shop on di whole Indian road – above my head high heel tap di ground as my vife on di web is playing wid di mouse venshe netting two cat on her Sikh lover site she book dem for di meat at di cheese ovher price- my bride she effing at my mum in all di colours of Punjabi den stumble like a drunk making fun at my daddy my bride tiny eyes ov a gun and di tummy ov a teddy

Honeymoon by khushwant singh downoad