In business, everything! No, is not good.

He says ‘long’. But how he is saying long

When he is interrupt? When he makes long!

This woman, good woman, she tell story.

Never is boring. No, he is boring.

PASTOR JEGEDE

This is your opinion. But I could tell

Some stories about bailiffs and the hell

They put good people through – bailiffs like you –

And we’d laugh, and know who is the buffoon.

BARTOSZ

I am bailiff, yes, but I curse your face!

I am cursing men of church in this place!

Many, many story I can tell from

My country! My story are very strong,

You can say this? Strong? And make shame to you,

And you will not like because story is true!

PUBLICAN POLLY

All right, simmer down: that’s enough of that!

Let her get on with … what she’s getting at.

I’m surprised at you, Father: you two sound

Like two pissheads, brawling. Trust me, around

Here we get enough of that. Alvita?

ALVITA

Always ready to speak verse in meter!

I mean, if it’s okay with Pastor here …

PASTOR JEGEDE

Please, go on with your tale: I am all ears.

The Wife of Willesden’s Tale

FIRST CHILD walks across the stage – like a scene changer in a medieval revel – holding an enormous sign which reads:

THE WIFE OF WILLESDEN’S TALE

SECOND CHILD walks in the opposite direction with an equally large sign:

Transferred from Arthurian Camelot to Maroon Town, Jamaica

FIRST CHILD walks by once more with the sign:

Featuring Queen Nanny!
Famed rebel slave and leader of peoples!

As before, ALVITA tells the story but the PUB CHORUS dramatizes it.

AUNTIE P

Back in the Maroon days of Queen Nanny,

Who Jamaicans love to the nth degree

All the island full up ah duppy,

And all kind ah spirit a roam free …

River Mumma hide a golden table

Under her skirts, and Ol’ Higue

She suck de breath from de sleeping baby –

ALVITA

At least, that’s what my Auntie P told me:

We’re talking way back in the seventeen twenties,

Bit before my time. Now’days no one sees

Ghosts or spirits or witches or duppy

Cos the island full up with nuff pastor,

Preachermen, vicar and minister,

Witnesses and Seventh-day Adventists,

Latter-day Saints, Catholics and Baptists,

Who spend their days hunting for evil deeds,

In every field and yard and running stream;

Dash round blessing anyone they can reach,

They’re every-damn-where like sand on a beach;

Blessing dance halls, cafes, hotels, high schools,

Nightclubs, hairdresser’s, sports grounds, swimming pools.

And why would the spirits wan’ deal with that?

Wherever di duppy dem used to be at

Now preacherman ah go all round

Praying for your soul, kneeling ’pon de ground,

And asking God to have mercy on us.

Jamaican women these days make no fuss

About fearing duppy; they’re too busy

Avoiding these churchmen who wan’ weigh she