You hear pan
That pan so sweet
Piano good and guitar too
But let me tell you
Pan is de treat
When I think ‘bout pan
Mark comes to mind
And when it comes to playing pan
Give me Mark anytime
Yes I mean Mark Forde
Shortest adult male in this place
But when he is playing
He just fills up de space
Watch him spin
Dem steel drum sticks
And when he starts to play
He pulls out all de tricks
If you stand up outside
It sounds like two pans
But Mark makes one pan sound like two
And he is only a little man
Sometimes when he plays
My hair stands up on ends
And I get this sweet feeling
That his playing over me sends
In Barbados he’s one of de best
He doesn’t like me saying so
But that’s no secret in this place
All o’ we in here know
Mark makes wonderful music
Be it a hymn or any another song
And it doesn’t matter the beat
He’ll give you a treat
Be it something short or long
If you’ve never heard him
You are missing a lot
’Cause the fist time you hear him
You’ll be frozen to the spot
A little bit taller
Than the pan he plays
But every note is within in his reach
As his pan has its say
See Mark coming up Lodge Road
With his pan on his back
A little bent from its weight
In its tailored-made sack
With steady pace he walks
As though in a hurry
A pensive look on his face
But not stressed or worried
He is a fixture
In the Lodge Road Church
I just pray he doesn’t go elsewhere
And leave us in the lurch
His contribution is much
On the drums, keyboard and pan
And this must be a marvel
For he is just a little man
He once led de chorale
I don’t know why he stopped
But he taught every part
And that alone was a lot
Mark we salute you
We appreciate your contribution
But be reminded
God gave you these talents
To carry out His mission
If at anytime you play
It feels surreal
Remember it is God in you
That’s the real deal
So play on Mark Forde
On your sweet, sweet steel pan
This poem salutes you
As a colossus though a little man
Stewart Russell © November 2017
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