Why Am I A Rastaman Lyrics

A big question posed to me daily on the street
many want to know the reason why
I am a Rastaman

Many people see I, many people ask I
why am I a Rastaman
many people see I, many people ask
why am I a Rastaman

It is because of the Babylon and the situation
it’s because of the Babylon and the situation

When I was a boy about eight years old
there was a certain Rastaman
and he love all the children
and he treated us like a man
even the little children than no one cares for
he called on every one
and he gave us fruit and treated every one
with a special love

Many people see I, many people ask I
why am I a Rastaman
but he taught I the love to give to everyone

Many people see I, many people ask I
why am I a Rastaman
there is no better way to express my love to each and everyone

One Saturday morning
a special thing happened to this man
here come Mr. Babylon
to take away the Rastaman
so them root up him herb and them eat off him fruit
and throw it in a van
and straight after that for three long years
I never see the Rastaman
they took him to General Penitentiary
and them send him back as a bald head man
but that could not change him
his mind was not in prison
was only his body, man

Many people see I, many people ask I
why am I a Rastaman
no matter how hard the battle be I still have JAH in my hand Many people see I, many people ask I
why am I a Rastaman
how sweet the name of JAH JAH sound to every righteous Rastaman

And the same old Rastaman
told me Pound, Shilling, and Pence
would come out of circulation
and we would use that . . . (?), man
and I have seen seven years after that
it was no use, man
donkey, horses, and cows feet
was trodding upon ha’penny, man

Everyone see I, everyone ask I
why am I a Rastaman
I’m here to prove and to testify about our prophecy

Everyone who see I, everyone ask I
why am I a Rastaman
John the Baptist, Marcus Garvey, and Christ—they was a Rastaman

Everyone see I, everyone ask I
why am I a Rastaman
I vow the vow of a Nazarite and I can´t do no otherwise, man

Everyone see I, everyone ask I
why am I a Rastaman
I love my brothers and my sisters and I cannot give up at all, man

Brother Brown, brother Klaus (?), brother Tom, brother Stanley, man
I used to hear them beat the drum and sing
way in the forest land

Everyone people see I, everyone people ask I
why am I a Rastaman
I love the beat of the Nyabingi that call from creation

Many people see I, everyone ask I
why am I a Rastaman
the truth is . . . (?) . . . you could’a small like a pin . . .

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