Poem - Sandra from Bandra

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.)