She boards the 9.30 Bandra local
With fellow passengers she is quite vocal
Don’t you have eyes, can’t you see?
I am wearing my brand new saree?
Oh, Sandra from Bandra, my maiden fair
Won’t you meet me tonight at the Bandra Fair?
To have a some bread and some sor patel
At the Bandstand, oh dearest Sandra, please tell.
She is late to work; “Oh these fisherwomen
They think they own the railway, yeah, men
“Just watch, I will teach them some manners
Let me get my foot in; fit in some corners."
Oh, Sandra from Bandra, my maiden fair
Won’t you meet me tonight at the Bandra Fair?
To have a some bread and some sor patel
At the Bandstand, oh dearest Sandra, please tell.
That Katlik boy in office, Frank Furtado
Serenades her every day with a Fado
He is good-for-nothing, I tell her, he can’t jive
He can’t talk, he can’t sing, even to save his life.
Oh, Sandra from Bandra, my maiden fair
Won’t you meet me tonight at the Bandra Fair?
To have a some bread and some sor patel
At the Bandstand, oh dearest Sandra, please tell.
Can’t see you, I have to attend mass
Novenas, confessions, I have no time to pass
Not you, not Frank, no one except Prince Charles
Or, could be, Prince Williams, Prince Harry of Wales.
Oh, Sandra from Bandra, my maiden fair
Won’t you meet me tonight at the Bandra Fair?
To have a some bread and some sor patel
At the Bandstand, oh dearest Sandra, please tell.
(Originally written to be performed at the Bandra Festival, but, sadly, time and inclination didn’t permit.)
