The British as indentured labourers,
Who used to wait for in the market places,
On the platforms,
On the bus stops
Still now do they,
The time has.
Carrying the luggage
And bundles on the head
And shoulders,
Loading them atop the bus
On the carrier,
Working in mills and factories,
Coolie, coolie,
Indian coolie,
The same Indian coolie.
Sweating and resting
Under the tree,
Quenching the thirst,
Waiting for passengers to alight
And the goods on the platform,
The trucks to be offloaded,
The buses to be with the goods,
Sometimes pushing the wheel carts
On the platforms,
Sometimes drawing trolleys.
Coolie, coolie, Indian coolie
Going with the towel on shoulders,
Wiping the sweat,
Dusting off
Lying clumsy and uncouth
As for the menial works,
Coolie, coolie, Indian coolie,
Bearing the brunt of heat and dust,
Indian summers,
Coolie, coolie, Indian coolie.