There was a bum sleeping in the bamboo-patch near where I cook my breakfast I think—or a peregrino. The farmer's dog wouldn't stop yapping. I was getting a bit annoyed, hearing it in the distance, that damn dog. And then finally I heard from the bamboos a man's voice yell, "Get, get." And I decided, that he was American—or from the States.
But I couldn't see him anywhere, the bum—or peregrino he probably was. But I only had just a little peak. I know what it's like afterall.
My breakfast finished cooking, my cornmeal in milk and bananas. And as I sat there eating, I kept hearing that damn dog followed by "get, get." I laughed to myself as I ate.
As I was leaving, the farmer pulled-round in his van. He saw me, and I was glad of it too. He walked to the back of the park and began kicking round the bamboo patch, searching for whom it was who was yelling at his dog "get, get" from the bamboos.