So says the trader
As there toes’re gored
Beneath his gaulish Shoes
They wail in tears and sweats
Mingled with abelish-blood
Streaking like a troubled Stream
In their sorrow- burrowed souls
Over-laden with his whims
Injustice, avarice and vice
“Your interest alone” he says.
“I bear in my heart”
What sorrows has his soul?
When his fortress’s on the rocks
Casting pebbles on the populace
From the flesh of his fortress
Harken to these woes
Yours, your precipice and ruin
Oh how this transient glory
Blindfold the elders of the land
They sit on their scrotum
Like bull- frogs in the pond
Who speaks with water in mouth?
It’s their urine, who fools who!
Here I humbly tender these woes
To you elder, and elders of the land
Our interest in heart I bear
Why sleep on the oars?
Dedicated to African Leaders and politicains, Nigeria's in particular.
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