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Someone In Africa Loves You The tall blonde girl didn't come to East Africa on safari, She was an Oxford student majoring in History And wanted to see the sites involved in slavery And the relics of Arab-Portuguese rivalry. I first spied her walking alone by the swaying sea And something about her just jumped up and bit me. I asked her her name and she said, 'Suzanne...with an "e".' From thence, there was no distance between us; I took her to see the Gedi Ruins and Fort Jesus And at night we marveled at a sky as brilliant as a mirror And cheered fire-eaters and limbo dancers With ebony skins that glistened in the moonlight like razors. Suzanne changed into tropical gear and I braided her hair And then we danced to the music of Bob Marley & The Wailers. Wherever he was, Cupid must have been very happy - I danced all night with Miss 'Suzanne with an "e".' Suzanne lay on the beach for hours and got a suntan; I taught her Swahili, she taught me cockney slang. Wise men say that time and tide wait for no man And all too soon it was time for Suzanne to return. Without her, life in the tropics just isn't the same, I'm so irritable my fellow beach boys say I'm going insane. I sent Suzanne an e-mail saying, 'Someone in Africa loves you.' And she replied saying, 'I miss Africa and I miss you.' It was signed: 'Suzanne with an "e".'
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