| Princess just hold on pon I and I hand
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| I will never mek the I falter [
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| The journey soon ends
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| See I and I gates upon the rock deh
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| She get whole heap a love and joy from the hand cart bwoy
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| bobo
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| youth whose name Fitzroy
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| Round a market mi juggle pepper and pak choi
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| She never know she woulda deh wid I
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| She get whole heap a love and joy from the hand cart bwoy
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| A the same likkle bobo youth whose name Fitzroy
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| Round a market mi juggle pak choi
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| She never know she woulda deh wid I
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| I’m trodding from the mountains
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| Pon mi foot a pure red dirt
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| Crucus bag dem stitch up and the cabbage well cut
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| bout a dozen I-trate pon mi shirt
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| I’ve got peppers, some ripe bananas and some peanuts
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| I met this princess in the market standing by the culvert
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| I could see that all she need was I and I comfort
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| Sey she come from up a River Gut
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| But she’s coming home to my little hut
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| She always
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| admire when I glorify the King
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| And how I seal my turban each and every morning
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| Sipping a little water from the spring
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| I push my cart and dance and sing
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| Oh what a loving, caring woman you are
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| And what I am thankful for?
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| She never tek no money from no superstar
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| I’ll be there for you no matter what’s the circumstnce
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| Rastafari is the light from a distance
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| Princess trod on and skillful guidance |