I count many, the number
Of this army in slumber!
While the future dies
Each on his bed lies;
Waiting for grey hairs
In the safety of their lairs

Alas! Tomorrow weeps
As each of them sleeps
If things remain so
When these old bones go
What shall we do then?
The chick is lost without the hen

Get up from your bed!
Fight until you're bled;
Free the hand of our tomorrow
From chains of sorrow
For if we fight not
Trouble shall be our lot!

Ye chicks of Nigeria
The cubs of this blessed area
Shall we let Today go to waste?
Or we shall act with haste?
Shall we allow rabbits in our cabbage rows
Or we shall pick up our bows

The future is in our hands...


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