The Handa

They say the Handa roams the streets, but I ain’t got no proof,
They say that if your house got walls, he’s probably on your roof!
Rumor is he hates dem’ jokes or anything that's funny
And if ya laugh, and laugh sum’ more, he’ll roar a big “blas’ phummy”!
We tried to trick em’ with a trap, we tried it every week,
We tied up hooks to piles of books, we even made em’ greek,
I hummed dem’ hymns he always sung, I said I was reformin’,
He almost came that other day, but then he saw a mormon.
Dem persecutors come around, tryna throw him into court,
But never seem to hunt him down, they say he's just too short!
I went far n’ wide to look for clues, found myself in Uganda
To find the man that they called Roy, to help me hunt the Handa

We looked real hard to find this Roy, took every nerve n’ fiber,
And when we did he turned us down, said I wasn’t a subscriber,
Told Roy I only got one thing, but he didn’t let me ask it,
He took a ball and went away, to shoot it in some basket,
But we refused to give up quick, we asked till it got dark,
And if ya saw how much we asked, you’d call us Allen Park!
We got the Roy to give us facts, to learn about the Handa,
He sometimes likes to speak in code, in python anaconda,
When it comes to Christian men, he tends to be dutch-lovin,
And if you wanna cook him bread, he only eats dutch oven,
He runs like crazy here and there, they say it's called parkour,
And when the wind blows at his face, his hair will just part more!

Roy took a funny lookin’ bullet, and put it on the gun,
He said there was no other way, to catch this Handa Chun,
It ain’t no help tryna pin him down, cause’ he never lost a fight,
But if ya shoot him with this bullet, then he’ll never cease to write!
You got a chance to catch him there, he’ll prolly’ write for ages,
And if you saw his “short response”, you’d see its sixty pages!
So we got a place and made a trap, we tried to lure him here,
We put a sign up on our door, we called it Ligonier,
And not too long we saw him come, we gave him Bible things
I aimed my gun as he was readin’, I shot him at 1 Kings,
I waited for him to get his pen, to write bout’ Ahab and Naboth,
But this bullet didn’t do a thing, he said he don’t work on Sabbath!

We thot’ he’d get real loud and mad, like crazy John the Baptist,
Was scared that he would eat me up, become a Handa breakfast,
But he didn’t throw his one inch punch, nor let out a big loud roar,
He laughed and said there was time, that he was caught before,
He said this Man was powerful, had nails stuck in His wrist,
This Man could break down any chain, with grace ya can’t resist,
He said this Man gave him a drink, some special living water,
This Man who could just hunt him down, became a given slaughter,
Said His blood defeated death, he called this Man preeminent,
Told me to find a gift called faith, to be part of His free remnant,
Then he escaped our trap and left, was once again on the run,
And left me thinking bout’ this Man, who once caught Handa Chun.


A Guest Contribution by Joseph Chen

04-11-2021