Prayer of a Fepow
You know Lord, how one has to strive
At Shamshuipo to simply survive
And how there's not too much to eat
Save rice and greens at Argyle Street.
It's not much fun when dinner comes
To find it’s boiled chrysanthemums
Nor do I like at any price
Those soft white maggots in my rice.
I hate the little hard black weevils
The dregs of grit and other evils
Dear Lord forgive that should grumble
For really I am very humble.
I am lucky to be alive at all
And thankful not to have had your call
But Lord, l think that even You
Would soon get tired of our jungle stew.
So what I really want to say
Is, if we don't soon get away
From Shamshuipo and Argyle Street,
Could we have a meat with meat.
We would of course be very grateful
For meat that's tender, a heaped-up plateful,
And it would be an extra boon
If a Red Cross parcel arrived quite soon.