Under the blazing Tropic Sun
Stretch the busy streets of Singapore
Bustling with life, radiating heat,
Resounding loud with traffic roar
The dust is here, and everywhere
And a nasty smell comes from the drain.
The sun-tanned walkers all do sweat
And hope for a quick onset of rain.
The crowds talk hoarse with parched lips,
The ice-cream sells exceedingly fast.
A light cool breeze at length sets in
Fans red faces, smears them yet with dust
But vehicles groan and tyres sigh;
Soft is the tar on every street
A poor hawker wipes his bare head;
“Pity the soles of my aching feet!”
Two hours passed. Grey clouds now appear
And distant rumblings ﬁll the sun with fear
Cold winds follow, bring heavy rain
And the day’s tyrant hurries to the rear
By Lim Thean Soo