Monday, September 10, 2012

WHERE WENT OUR (WIDOWED) MA?


Can it be sliced cassava bread
The one the shepherd feeds his herd
Or just a bite of ill-cooked beef
That made our mama's stomach stiff?

Oh! So you say she went to rest,
And get some worries off her chest?
But hope she does remember this
While she is there seeking some bliss

Her fellow widows here still seek
Some respite from poverty's stick
While looking up, side, down and round
That they may ’scape the Boko hounds

She left our own Obudu here
(Bar Beach, Yankari, all are there)
And went to ease her stomach cramps
In German concentration camps!

Well, someone tell our (widowed) ma
That once there was a Dame like her,
Who winched away to boost her youth
…But ended as the Reaper's loot.

Hope while she's gone she'll think to buy
A shoe for that our shoeless Guy,
Who leads us on this path we ply
Without a map to lead us by!

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