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Englished Versions of the Ch'an Poems of Tan–Hsia

Poems by myself

Translations from the Afrikaans of Adam Small






by the Chinese Monk Tan Hsia



mike dickman

from the original translations made in 1975

by Yogi C. M. Chen


An offering of brotherhood and gratitude to the
Chinese Yogin, C. M. Chen


This version — like his own — should be freely distributed to whoever would like a copy
and is never to be put up for sale

Paris, France — July 11th., 1998

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness,
Be free from sorrow and the causes of sorrow,
Never become separated from the sacred happiness that is sorrowless,
And, quitting attachment & hostility to what is considered near or far, live believing in the fundamental equality of all that exists






In the deeps of the pond, the mud bull tills the white moon earth
High up in the clouds, the wooden horse flies swiftly by
The Indian monk does not like to hold his begging bowl
And in the middle of the night rows off in his boat, heading elsewhere.


Moonlight shines through the windows of all homes
Throughout the land birds sing and the wind blows in the willow trees
You could say that on the journey there and back again there's no change
That it's like a hero throwing his sword up into the sky.

It's too subtle to be seen
You may get blood but you'll never win
So why does no one talk about its price?
Because it's not a worldly thing

The cool moon climbs the high mountain peak at night
Covers miles and miles of lake–like plain with her light
Startled by the fisherman's song, the egret takes flight
From the reeds we see only a patch of white

In the deep palace there's nothing to be known
The jade altar is adorned with clouds and mist
Court officials go about their tasks
The Dharma–King prefers not to wear a crown

Spring flowers not yet bloomed and yet the plum is out
The pine is green but all other trees are bare
No thin cloud to veil the moon
No light mist aswirl around twigs and branches


The moon like some magic spell tonight
I turn and strike the bell
Its loud song flies up beyond the heavens
Why do those gods up there sleep so deep?

The white lotus root in the mud is no mistake
And though her pink flower's hidden by leaves and gets no sun
Travelers, don't lie
The pure breeze will spread her fragrance far and wide

This shore, that shore. Both miss it
Nor is no–self in between
The sun is setting behind the western mountains
Yet still it casts its shade toward the east

The pure breeze carries the fishing boat out to work
Watch as it rouses up waves to the very sky
Fish playing together deep in love
In the end even they will not be free of the hook

The long river is clearer even than moonlight
Not home, but everything is bright
‘Oh, fisherman, where are you going?‘
‘I'll sleep enclosed by reeds tonight.‘

It can't be seen, what will you say?
No thing has its form nor follows in its way
At the mossy altar no–one serves
Moonlight lights up the tree... The phoenix will not stay



The wooden man asks the way to heaven
The jade girl seems deaf, doesn't understand
And yet back they come together, arm in arm
Leave the mountain as it is, encircled by clouds without end

In the subtle truth there's nothing you can gain
Which also doesn't mean that all is vain
The moon reflects on the sea, the fish all disappear
You — fisherman — why do you cast your hook again?

Outside the fence the white clouds... a vast expanse
Even when put to the test no sword can cut it
The deepest cavern needs neither lock nor bolt
You pass as you will — no need to ask leave

When hungry I eat green grass
And when thirsty drink at the cool spring
I do not plough the empty ground
Cowherd, no need to rouse me with your song

I cannot pass to the other shore
So come back — no need to ask the path
In front of the altar no monk
Just a ray of moonlight shining across

It's perfectly round and inexpressible
Tell them to shut up
Though it's painting up the sky and looks so noble
There's still someone wants to pass the word



Shih–teh seems to stupid... can't tell day from night
Han–shan is too lazy... won't turn left or right
That perfect round voice before all speech... how nice!
Beyond space the moon is very bright

This sweet message is rather rare
The fragrance of moon–flowers endures
Last night Chang–O appeared... so beautiful...
Her eyes turned up, yet still she draws the Yuan–Yang

The dragon sings in the sea and rains come in due time
The lion roars in the mountains and the wind blows up so fine
Don't worry yourself about thorns in the path
In our poor house there's no guest sublime

With horn and hide he soon become a cow
To his eyes all — wood and ashes — were just so much dust
Though he failed to understand the truth his teacher told him
At last, as death arrived, he realised

His noble form, so wondrous and bright
No–one — not Wu Tao–tze
Not Tze–kun himself —
Would have the skill to draw or paint aright

In wintertime all trees have some fault or another
Only the root of the plum tree is warm
Look... In front of the village after the snow...
Flowering blossom



Pine shadows in the moonlight, some short some long
The sun shines from within the lake, two skies but not separate
The heat of heaven does not know the noon
The full moon of autumn has no idea of art

Most of us have learned from someone else
And open our mouths in vain
No–one knows its entire radiance
Not even Buddha did: how could we?

Only one mind, and yet for years and years it can't be found
Take the skin off of naked and enter the unbound
Look at the blue sky... It's like a mirror
Miles and miles of cloudless space… and the moon is so round!

you who run to me blood streaming
beneath the dark and scorpioned moons
flying your horned brow
who needs everything telling not just once but
every single time
and all tales of high deeds move and the sorrows of others not at all
who lay waste with a single glance of your black-lit eyes
aeons and infinities
scything black light rays to the bone

it is into your inmost ear i sing this
into your innermost heart
and the infinitesimal structure of the marrow of your bones
down nerve and energy and air
every ripple in sand and wave and stone


into the hiddenmost brain

i call to you along the crooked paths of time
make sign to you from each cobwebbed leaf
from every chance of light upon the swimming skies

out of the starlit night my voice sings
bright and silent as dust

from the deeps of earth and sea and time
i call to you by name

the brittle sound weaves on
singing heroes wild hunt and pain

your shadow lopes along with mine


unknown ever known
i see you in doorways of the long-barrows bide your time
for what?
again and again and again

will we not this once be friends
dissolve beyond the wildwoods all
tangled blood briar and the green fire alight along the nerve
and in the brain
remember! remember!
i hear your careless laugh
wild and mad upon the wind

and quail

armed at every point with blank incomprehension
you refuse love all taming
the seer's web of elven gold or is that indeed all you see?


the knotted serpent net
drifts into flowers
never there

drifts into never done
into all's undone
into gone out no more
no blame no pain


night is gathering in over the ancient hills behind me
a light breeze stirring the prayer flags on their poles
people pass by
not for me
already sunset is dying away
the sky a deep green i'll warrant

i wonder where you are

on janus' eve

last red eye into night

half honest journals
poem lusts and lanes
of half lived ladies

as night settles on the years

days of flicker the membrane mind
inchlong fingers cup and hold

 sky wraith

last warmths

spaces mesh

one outbraving holes

one looking both ways through last child eyes

one who stares
at fires on a screen

both ways
down the echoes of the night

here is unword

slowmotion exploding



dissolving into


unsought bubbles


as air

breath unheld

hidden room

you are lying
my son

each move hides a million imagined crimes

and this i write
by birdlight

rice on the boil

heart between my teeth like a stone

here is a rose thats perfume touches all the air its form infolding now the shapes behind the night old bearded men and many watching from afar the subtle changing in a flask - a sudden misting on the glass - the deep downpouring of the golden root and the oil behind the root that tips the

here empty sky shaping all the air a gentle tinkling of bells

sudden rattling bone on bone

immensities of space

here friendly old fatigue comes climbing up my back and in my ears and eyes his sands a dusting the sudden golem presence of the always late corps physique with its age old aches and pains, bladders and bowels that want emptying this scratched that probed or fed or otherwise distracted this presencing forth lost in forty-second street a nerve-print city with its locks and burrowing ways door on door on door always closed always opening onto some such utter wonder the miracle is no-one sees

the shapes the sounds the exquisite doings of the brain misting like film on water sky-flower slow-motion exploding down a couple of million aeons in your hand



meaningless archipelagos is and
fjord into the greying seas

time prints doggedly on
at right angles to horizons
in any sense of that word

first and second fingertips joined
joined thumbtips (one mercurochrome red)

of vital heat ablaze

above the mind-machines of mankind


agelong ceremony

rising of the light
green processional
and the young year tugging at the leash

alone on a hill

the turning world
a stark array

wildhunt horn and secret piping


the flowing turn of world
no whit my own



in last skies



unbeing's horrific nearness


simultaneous arising

light on light
and less

only home

where I is nothing
and always knowledge only nothing known

winter's slow round

only fires in the works outside
or on the box

dragonwind winds in

season's turning

skies founder
& fly

the slow upwelling

tanglewood turns

bunched foxhairs
on briar the only sign
of passing

 ariel pierces hillside
beside waiting wraith of trees

skies lower

greysteel sheen


moon spilling blacklight

wake in early light and snow

prayers unfurling

silent as snowprint
on a sleeping house

on the road to the station

we hit a pheasant

still fluttering into immensity
as gears change


these leaves

flying at your head and slantwise in the wind

suddenly the children and the rain

 i ching tonight inscrutable

water on water

endless & sodden sound

on the carpet

gathering in dreams

surrounded by bits of tomorrow

cold sweat

moving heavily
through the first tasks of the day
this gentle body

crippled nun
gets on and off the bus

amber beads clack

black robes
flapping obedient crows at her ankles

and she stumps off

past posters


sex you never even heard of

kissing you goodbye
at the schoolgate,
dry brown leaves shift and hiss on the courtyard floor

brown leaves scud and crab across the yard

one small child squats to see in my eye what i'm doing what about

sky reveals holes of brilliant blue on examination

school's out

swallows on last light

loud & american laughter
gardens away

lamplight pools on the
slowly shifting
imperceptible room

ice & incense
out of & into

quick backflip
through paper-vellumed
and time

you ensconced in
other where


another year gone lumping
and zooming by...

here's to yearsend

little girl in rubber boots
skipping through leaves multicoloured
pale yellow cryptic beige red & grey & brown
what a smile is on your face

in this simple love for your bearded father
who stomps along behind
wrapped in fume and vapour dragonbreath
on cold this midnovember morning

tonight you give me twelve signs from an ancient book
two tortoises - snake-wrapped lord of midwinter
midsummer's lord of the k'ua

this shaped world
is open
on the living sense

rose gold on the
southern wall

ice-blue & ivy
the further side

only mind knots
ropes of air

fingers pick away
the cloth

poke and pour at




ache from heart to

across this silence


almost solid




snagged in




we have torn ourselves down

stripped light and days

ripped out and hung on air
fashioned aeons long

washed back like tide

down endless meaningless corridors

long as vision

the jetsam wrack and
interminable chthonic winding

burst blazing
into exquisite amphorae of meaning

worlds ajewel with half-grasped radiance


inhabited all worlds and all the world from
infinitessimal up
& infinity on down
each particle

seismic simultaneity

questing we have tasted the bread and the salt
questing drunk oceans of space
burned in icy flames
drowned in fire

down endless corridors
down endless corridors
down endless corridors

stone could not hold us
nor earth endure

we set sail beyond stars
where suns spin as dust
and on the pinprick skies
rode wave
upon wave
upon wave

you deny


you deny

the sun & the moon
in your veins

your form

a dancing veil

froth and flux
unto the air

where the skies are sailing


you deny



this simplelight

clearer this than spring water




I watch her tear herself apart upon the lawn. The hands, one and another, weighing. Quicksilver. Bounce-offs. Gagaku weaves behind and the grunted nod.

Jewelled detail, tasted into... Tempo slows... ricocheting mind-spin... How to be in a position... outside any system... out of the blue... It falters as the even more weighs in... Un peuple un homme... Anybody and everybody and maybe oneself... Names of great men...

But audience demands dictates the language

That my children have access to the most valuable - know how to get it around how to find it to be true to myself but at the same time give them access to the finding the earning a living.

soft as dust of

the luckless sill of years spills
into the next

eyes inturned
breath held

knots of space

silver spinning water

our lady moon is rising sweet
yet on the water

no moon lies

o'er the water birds spin

the water takes their image clear
yet in the water

no bird flies

look through your window

see me standing here so many years
singing this rainy song

ripple and wave

the hoof-print puddle
sounding the depths of all worlds

look through your window


so small

home of the moon

dancing to time

on a pale afternoon



dancing on sticks

bent trees

no breeze

no breath

no death

lie by the blackback tarn and drink your fill

the wizard of the hill stares down

his spell has made the water sweet

black bird

with the amber wing

fly through the sun

my heart breaks

to the third void

o ship of the easter moon a-sailing
seven dreamers trim your sails

can you say me true
where the wind goes to be lonely?

far above the ghettoed earth
the moon lay a-bleeding

light breaks across the thousand mile sky

today i light one thousand lamps
and watch amazed as a frozen tree weeps
for your swift return

late in the coming year
the weeping tree down

a smell of cedar will fill the air

my inadequacy
the bitter wind

like prayerflags

coming down through the fog
two cars pass me by

beyond this glow loving hands half-seen
furnish feast of bread meat and wine

we sit within and smile
two old chairs rapt in oceanic silence

still fire-heart red beyond the grey,
inner and outer polishing
etching into your bones

me longer-haired and woollier now than ever
foolish like a child
no idea at all of where i'm coming from

where to go

the sky leans cold

stripped and stripped back
the livid lips
what remains?
even the sensation of desperate helplessness
open to suspicion

tonight the dragon rises

smashing through broken window-pane

tonight i celebrate

whirling drunken and unseen, demented Hassid


three voices cleave the airs

food untasted

wine unsung

my songs for you for you

my songs for you

i see you spread-eagle on a long beach


between infinity and nowhere

your right eye the sun
the left the moon

and stars and night the colour of your mind

body the ancient and hollow hills
your hair ripples fire and the wave


up your spine

a long-dormant dragon


standing on the balcony
i watch you walk away

dwindling figures
in a landscape of rushing lines
as i wave and wave
reciting prayers to Tara that this next sundering bring no pain

back inside
the books and statuettes gaze at me dumbfounded

picking nervously at my guitar
the music won't come

all fingers

between silences

cruise immense passages of solid time

endon chunks of space


choking and swathing

— a too-tight collar —

attention sags

from what to how

breath inheld

a thirty thousand years

this is dinner

thrice cooked
before I gave up waiting

wet crêpe soles squelch &
slip on sodden leaves. lost siren
howls somewhere off scene

earth flows moonward
fingers rooting to the ground

lycanthropic jaw
mouths lunar tunes

infinitudinal expanse
indwelling jut of brow
and coal bright eye

swarms matterings
and preordained meaningfulnesses






as knowing

crow flaps in half-light
black and sodden rag

leaftoss on saturate airs

no-light proclaiming dawn

bird track and cloud print
a white
spurt of dog
checking one last thing
before following its master home

this is the gate of the years

where years  put off
but not

i think


a crow flaps muddy footprints across a lean sky

coming from the right for fortune and weal

me listening to the noise beyond the silent hissing of the room
(and oh for a clock to print the seconds of the time)

engines labouring uphill

hammers from the construction-site across the way


what is there
in all this
for you

for me

sunlight aslant across the silent page of sky

a lone magpie limping by

great black crow

 limping home

lights for a moment upon the twisted branch

of a gnarled old tree




as though
he had no reason to be there

a man


having always
a little
behind himself

a smoke
a glass

is now





all afternoon
my nose in a book

tallis & palestrina on the airs

so you sneaked into turning eight on me

like a thin slice of moon



& silence


i drink the waters of your presence
quicksilver being
ancient girlish face

you see
i think, only the need,
curious but skittish as cats
that any one could be at once so far
and yet so near

the books i read speak often of dew
of strange and sharp surfaces & powders

the book-lined walls lean inward round the shadow of the

that reads there
head robed in lucent silver
gestures graven in the dusty dark

slantwise on air
and fat as snow
silver beads skim sides of gusting wind

on backdrops of
luminous green
the fleeting concrete

smacking droplets
sparkle the skin


golden in the darkness

& moving the other way


in the days

and hedge by the door

i clearly see

the brinded ghost-dog

snuffling at the roots of my life

to startled second glance

and closer observation

nothing there


pictures of light
the small & fragile beings that break like waves on endless wheels of hope and fear
pictures of light
the mountains of bone, flesh, shit, oceans of tear, blood, serum, piss, snot, pus;
vast spread of hide,
strand and sieve of nerve, sinew, vein,

and the tangling net of hair

pictures of light

the grappling fingers,
the nails that scrabble and tear
at coffin-lid, sand and stone,


the night

the endless, shuffling procession
of dust
eternal horror
of engulfment

so soon

of light

the roar of sun,

the midnight boat of moon,

the sky

pictures of light
the golden birds flying up,

sparks of molten fire beneath predawn streetlamp

the too-large eyes in too-big heads that rock
above tomorrow's corpses of stick and sail

the fragile chitin

dead beetle in my hand

endless recitation
sound void inseparable
endless outpour

labyrinthine mandala

endless enactment

of sky

called again to play the ape

again constrained to draw on air
the lines that are not there

wall in space &


as others rebuff
bell & robe

in hysteria



& dear

after an afternoon of waiting

a single,
waxen block

you come stumbling up the track between the rose and the wall,

light drizzle in last light
a bag on every shoulder and then again

i say only what i have to say
& pass on

we listened to you then
the slick light burning
cigarette in the cupped hand

years on
the things you said
come back
things you're saying now
probably as lost

lurching back
only when too late
out of the dark night
& rain


between the fingers and the skin

a few drops

red crystal


the skin of the years stripped back

three lovely ladies


and the back of my throat
aching to weep

in the

hour upon hour



broken skies

today i saw

a golden boy with a face like the sun

a little girl with stars on her face and the skies beneath her brow

the mock and turn of flowers

tonight i am dancing in circles





in open sky

weight of air


beneath white wing


and this



you're off on another side wind i can't follow,
looping space ropes into the webs and nets of what
— i assume —
is what you imagine to be the demands of whatever you're calling reality now.

this  always i've watched amazed - how you loop on air on a single sheen - never finding that base line that would give your acts the grandeur, the weight, they actually have

how often have we come back to this? -
this final line, this shutting of doors, unpinning of all limits, this opening of all doors, dissolving walls even into the rain?

how many times yet to start again

to start again

and to start again?

our meaning has become no meaning
our hopes and dreams are defiled

and the doors of the future are swinging shut behind


into midnight silence
& between two sessions at this machine

i hear a cricket

how many years?...


a birthing venus

from sea green

covers and mists

rust and




and wise as seals

to the phone

my feet slowly slipping apart
on shiny toilet floor,
i reach
into a future
i could never swear
is there

what is this


sudden sprung


vast columns

of supporting


shy succulent






and sweet this

abysmal cleft this

ocean home

of all the




strange corners of the soul

the ever-ready


the fragile bark










within a



to whom love songs are so difficult

bliss-empowered maiden
of vast expanse


cracking open
the nerves
of an agelong

ocean wave

and sheer

arrowing down

through space of bliss


& airs


two energies that merge & meld
the third
called in

like a poet of the desert wind
cloud forms shaping on skies

& these are the wings

i love you


time's getting tighter





counting more in weeks now
than flickering daze

what'll it be when i'm seventy?



these lights




on space

& far




deep red

pure blue

this gold
profoundest of greens


as it were

from within


in patterns


fast & slow


all & everything

& dissolution

on the moveless water


the lurch
of the pontoon–jetty beneath the feet

the unexpected
arc of the rowed boat

as it cuts against the current

& dancing
slow circles

about you

my hands

your skin

your hair

the air



moment by moment

out of the air


this universe
& all that's in it




a little confused


not too sure

i always like what i see

awestruck &

… ready?


Come, let us sing

let us open up the Good Book
and read from it —
o Mos Holy Spirit
let these words go right t our heart —
from the secon book a Mosas
from Ex'dus,
fourth chapter, firs an secon verse —
o God
make for us with these words a light as that of candles! —

an Mosas answered an he said: but what
if they don b'lieve me, don take up my words
if they say the Lord didn't never appear t me at all?

but the Lord said: you shall lead your people
What is in your hand?
an Mosas said: a rod.

Now friends
twas all he had
this man o God
a rod
a great dead stick
an on top of that he was also a stamm'rer

but the Lord spoke with him at length
how with that stick he had stricken dead
the Egyptian
an Mosas let his great big head hang down
an sunly that selfsame rod was become a serpent!

now friends
even unto me has the Lord brought
his wonderworks
he has asked me what is in my hand
an friends
in my hand is my guitar

come, let us sing



you a Prophet a Jesus?
a prophet?
you wit yo palace–house?
you wit yo airmobile?
you wit that kinda sad smile a yours?
an yo tears
an yo huffanpuff up onna pulpit
an yo plate piled high wit braaivleis pertaties an meat?

yo house the desert? boy! folks is really gonna think you summin!
an how ja like yo bare lil feet f' that streamline thing
how ja like yo camelskin toga
how ja like ya plateful locust an wile honey?

On the P'rade

Please mad'm
c'mon smile
jis look
our little old tents is piled high wit joy

how can mad'm look so sour
shame on you shame
d'you think life's vinegar
an where's mad'm buyin it then
cause i bet it's real expensive

nah, mad'm
c'mon, c'mon smile
look over there
our little old tents is piled high wit joy

This white dame can't laugh
jis gives orders:
there's nuthin I want,
the coon formal as hell

But mad'm, pawpaw, pawpaw an banana
an juicy grapes out the heart of Canaan
or maybe the lady would fancy a fig
jis look how swollen it is
plumped right out from top to bottom
don' blush now mad'm
we got the leaf right here
ja well maybe

I don' want nuthin hear!

But mad'm

I don' want nuthin do you hear!

But mad'm

You, you coolie
I'm going to call the cops!

The fruitboy's voice suddenly muffled
cops, cops?
hey c'mon lady, don' be so mean
jis say g'bye nicely
hey guess what
them bare–arse ole nec'trines still blowin mad'm a kissie goodbye

The white woman stomps off
across the parade,
clippety–clop, clippety–clop

Hey lady, hey
mad'm sho she don wanna try our guavas
guarantee 'm lady
great f' the nerves!


Great Krismis Prayer

once again we praise you
you what came f' the redemption of the worl
you what was born so many Krismises ago
in Bethlehem

ja in Bethlehem Lord
in the stable
by the donkey
by the cow
in the crib
on the earth floor
on the floor of sand Lord
in a place that stank
in a place where a person got sick from the stink

we know such places Lord
ja we know them
we got duplicates of them allover
in Windermere
in Distrik Six
in Blouvlei here jis otherside Wynberg by Retreat

an that's why we praise you again this Krismis Lord
jis you
jis you who's got the biggest esperience of us all
of this kind of places
only you can help us

only you can perhaps again
this Krismis Lord let
a new Mosas be born for us here

a new Mosas
a new Mosas
o Lord, our Mosas —
we'll hide him away Lord, we got lotsa hidingplaces
from the daggers what don' like him —
to lead us, the whole bunch of us
lead us to the plain before the vineyards of Canaan
of Canaan Lord
Lord, our Canaan


Let me sing t you Lord
sing t you what I mean

firs jis make the banjo strings right

Inna Retreat hotel otherside the vlei
we got our own proper Egypt
'cos jis like the Jews out of slave'ry
somebody still got to lead us away

somebody still got to lead us away
somebody still got to lead us away
'cos jis like the Jews out of slave'ry
somebody still got to lead us away


O Lord
please try do something f' us this Krismis
you can't jis forget us again

already long time there's been fellows under our care who saying
all you got left f' us
is the banjo an the guitar Lord
the banjo an the guitar an the dark subways

the people are embittered Lord
their hearts are growing hard
they don' wan to hear bout you no more
an when they sing they sing

Already long ago in places
like Windermere
we forgot our longings
for things that was dear

so Lord you can jis lissen
t our songs in peace
an don' have no worries, we already
long pas' grief


An it's not only jis agains you that they embittered Lord
they also embittered agains' folks that's well–off
there's a nother song they sing


here we come
here we come
here we come along

the Road to Heav'n is narrow
but it's your way, not my way
our road's name is Broadway

we live agains' the flanks
agains' the very flanks
agains' the flanks of Table Mountain
no the flanks of the Lord
yes the flanks of the Lord
jis you wit' your life
an us wit' our longings
ja jis' you wit' your life
an us wit' our longings

so your road is narrow where you ride Home today
our road's name is Broadway


But Lord it's jis no good f' us
that our road's name is Broadway

we have to change that name
but how can we change it
how can we
unless you help us Lord

you who's got the Kingdom
an the Power
an the Glory

The Lord has rolled the bones

Let the worl talk pallie if it wants to fast an loose
a cigarette, a can Oom Tas
an s'alright buddy s'alright
we don' give a damn

a cigarette, a can Oom Tas
pretty chick, pretty other stuff too
oh ja!
let the world talk frien' if it wants to fast an loose
so what
so what
what diff'rence does it make
like th' English oke says cuts no ice
the Lord has rolled
an' the bones jus don' have our number
is all

so let them say skollie pallie
ferget it, never mind,
it's jus there's children a Ham an children a Cain
s'okay my frien', s'alright
let's jus don' worry

The skollie's prayer of thanks

all you stiffnecks up in the jury
all you hypocrite holy swanks
an the same to you
for the complements of the season

ja so okay i'm a skollie — a hoodlum
my artificial holiness
was kicked right up the arse
at birth
the Lord himself done it
he's so compassionate when you
get yourself to cut the crap

so thanks God
for the complements of the season