Ah another general shout
With secateurs and chisels
Quenching the heart of a light
Turned crimson and black and grey
With great relief and hope
You descended your altar of sacrifice
With a sigh of relief and hope.
Vultures and hawks
With the scents
The foul smell of an unborn child
That out of sheer wickedness and reproach you
A murderer, the greatest of all time
Laid to rest.
Thy soul be lifted up—
blessed with cement
Mixed with coals and abiku
Burning in incessant echoes of sighs and mourns—
From your curiousity of yesterday.
Today na today
Fowl yansh don open mouth
Na foul smell we dey hear
If I hear pim from your mouth
We will visit you with no more abiku
But a saltless food
Shame on you!
Shame on una!