In the streets of Trenchtown,
where shadows danced with hunger,
a boy dreamed of strings that spoke,
of rhythms that healed the broken.
“Emancipate yourself from mental slavery,”
he sang, a redemption song,
a call to rise, to break the chains,
to find strength in unity’s embrace.
Bob, the lion of Zion,
his melodies painted worlds of peace
on walls cracked by oppression,
“On a concrete jungle”
his words a revolution, soft but unyielding.
“One love, one heart,”
he sang to the weary,
as his music carried the weight of nations,
lifting hearts like the sun lifts the sea.
Through the smoke of Babylon,
his song flowed like a river,
“Don’t worry about a thing,” he said,
as the world clung to his every word.
A prophet in dreadlocks,
his fire burned for justice,
his guitar a weapon of hope,
his lyrics seeds of change.
Just as “Johnny Was”,
Bob was too;
indeed a good man.
Today, his spirit lives in every chord,
in every voice that echoes his dream:
“Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights,”
a call to never surrender,
to always believe in love.
So as we sing his words tonight,
remember his struggle, his burning light.
Feel the “Natural Mystic”, the love, the fight,
and whisper softly into the night,
“Every little thing is gonna be all right.”
Let’s always remember him.
06/02/1945 - 11/05/1981