The Habanero Reel

Cool in the corner, tom cat sitting
on the edge of the yard; sand-flies flitting.
Orange order on a field of green.
Smothers me to smithereens.
Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing.
Jumping beans and brown eyes flashing.
Long hair swinging, tell me how dyou feel?
Well, hot and fancy, its the habanero reel.
Troubled skin? Pour oil upon it .
Shes fit to burn in her new Scotch Bonnet.
Spice up anybodys stew.
Frogs and goats and chickens too.
Barefoot in the sunshine.
Kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line.
Big wave nearly float your dress away.
And Im thinking that its just another day:
just another day.
Feel that hot rush start its tickle.
Sweat is rising, taste buds prickle
with ears of bat and eye of eagle.
Its just as well its strictly legal.