The 59th Age

The symbol of Africa’s prestige,
The cornerstone of the continental black race,
An unadulterated gift from the omniscient one,
A mother to 200 million children.

The vegetations and plantations confess your agricultural grace,
Springs of living water flow at your coast for infinity,
Mother to hundreds of tribes,
The birds sing madrigals for you today.

Saber-toothed tigers though voraciously desecrate your sacred crown,
The black mambas sting you with virus of all kinds,
Pain has now become your alter ego,
Your suffering knows no bound.

Stay calm, oh mother at 59,
For the Earth would one day shake,
The trees shall bow,
The seas shall boil.

Stay calm,
For your children shall fight for your freedom,
We shall end your pain,
So we can show the world once again, the beauty of mother Nigeria.

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