No woman no cry,

Yet I think I might,

Because there’s one CD,

That plays all day and night,

In this concrete jungle,

The rhythm of the beat,

Blasting out the Wailers,

In this burning heat,

Like in the Exodus,

There’s need to escape,

From the man down the street,

Who has one cassette tape,

I shot the Sheriff,

The Rastafarian’s voice sings,

Life is Bob Marley forever,

For him joy is all this record brings.