| Penelope works in the market |
| Down in the coconut trees |
| She’s savin' up all her money |
| To go to America across the sea |
| She once had an uncle |
| He lived in Detroit town |
| They got all his postcards |
| But his body has never been found |
| Till this day-ay-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Till this day-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Till this day-ay-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Till this day-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| She got a job as a domestic |
| Workin' for minimum wage |
| From all her friends back home in Jamaica |
| They say 'you really got it made in the shade' |
| But they don’t see her sweat and grime |
| And bendin' on her knees |
| She wishes she were back in Jamaica |
| Beneath the coconut trees |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day, yeah |
| Every day, yeah |
| Penelope’s back in the market |
| She found out what it was all about |
| Nah, no she doesn’t regret it |
| She’s just glad that she got out |
| But other’s aren’t so lucky |
| They’re there till the day they die |
| Trapped in the steel and concrete |
| No beach, no moon, no sky |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-ay-yeah |
| Every day-ay-ay-ay-yeah |