Galkisse Hotale Lyrics by MS Fernando

Right by the Galkissa hotel, near Arthur’s place,
sir, I’ve got a clean car, I know every bar,
I’ll do an all-Ceylon tour for you, I’ll give you my car //

I know the Kandy road, I know the Sigiriya road,
I know the Batticaloa road, I know the Gal Oya road,
I’ll take you to a gem dealer, that’s the Kahawatta road,
Elahera, Bakamuna,
my friend’s got a whole load of gems //

Galkissa hotel ….. /

I saw you a wild elephant, we have to go to the Yala jungle,
I’ll give you blue sapphire and honey as we pass through Matara town,
I’ll tell you the whole story about Panamure,
you can see the great temple,
we’re heading to Anuradhapura //

Galkissa hotel ….. /

Your wife, the madam, the missus is calling, come for a kiss,
I’ll give her kavum and kokis, sweets, just right for the kiddies,
I know good English, the way you like it, like a bite of lunu miris,
my friend, the singer MS,
the all-Ceylon baila twist //

Galkissa hotel ….. /

This is a comic baila song, one of those cheeky, fast-paced party numbers that Sri Lankans have sung at weddings and parties for generations, and it is sung in the broken, sing-song “tourist English” of a Colombo tour driver on the make. The whole thing is a character sketch. Picture a hustling taxi man parked outside the old hotels at Galkissa (Mount Lavinia, the seaside town just south of Colombo, “Galkisse” in the local pronunciation) and Arthur’s, leaning into a foreigner’s window and reeling off his sales pitch. The fun is entirely in his patter, the confident, mangled grammar of a man who has learned just enough English to talk a tourist into hiring his car for the day.

The joke works because he name-drops half the island to sound like he knows everything. He rattles off the roads to Kandy, Sigiriya, Batticaloa (madakalapu) and Gal Oya, then promises to take you gem shopping on the Kahawatta road and through Elahera and Bakamuna, all real gem-mining country, where his “friend” conveniently has a whole load of stones to sell you. In the next verse he is dangling the things every visitor comes for: a wild elephant out in the Yala jungle, blue sapphires (nil) and bee’s honey picked up as you roll through Matara town, the famous elephant kraal at Panamure, a great temple, and the ancient city of Anuradhapura. It is the entire tourist brochure squeezed into one breathless sales talk, and the humour is in how shamelessly he over-promises.

The last verse is the cheekiest. He turns to flirt with the visitor’s wife, the “madam,” and offers her kavum and kokis, the sweet oil-cakes Sri Lankans make for the Avurudu (New Year), calling them just the thing for the children. Then he brags that his English is good, “like it in lunu miris,” comparing his fast talk to the sharp little chili-and-onion sambol that wakes up a plate of rice. The song signs itself off with a wink to its own performer, “my friend singer MS,” MS Fernando, the king of Sri Lankan baila, and the promise of an all-Ceylon baila twist.

There is no heartbreak or hidden depth here, and it would be false to pretend otherwise. The pleasure is the affectionate teasing of a familiar local type, the smooth-talking tour tout, and the bouncing baila rhythm underneath it. For anyone who has landed at Colombo and been swarmed by friendly drivers each swearing they know every road on the island, this song is that whole scene set to music, sung with a grin.