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This incident happened to me
during
my visit to Cuba in 1974
Lost
in Havana, Cuba,
In the middle of the night,
Roads so dark and lonely,
Not a street light is in sight.
I walk
down by the harbour,
But I don't know where to go,
My heart is racing briskly,
But my feet are walking slow.
I see
a dingy alley,
With a street light, very dim,
I walk into the shadows,
And I'm feeling kind of grim.
Then
in a doorway, standing,
I can see a stranger there,
He walks in my direction,
And I act like I don't care.
He's
speaking only Spanish,
And he's trying to accost,
He finally speaks a word I know,
A word that sounds like, "Lost?"
I tell
him where I'm staying,
And he motions with his hand,
Now I can run on after him,
Or stay there where I stand.
I
follow where he's leading,
And I'm hoping for the best,
I've never been this scared before,
Of that I can attest.
He
leads to where I'm staying,
But he stops a block away,
I'm thankful for his kindly act,
Whatever can I say.
I'd
pay him for his kindness,
For he's really poor as dirt,
He doesn't want my money,
All he wants is my old shirt.
There's a Cuban in Havana,
Who thinks he's rolled a seven,
His tee-shirt has this saying,
"Thank Heaven for Seven-Eleven".
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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