Oh! What a pity!!
The mighty man of memory
A earth to be looked up at, to recollect
A coffin that lives for Billion generations

He started like any other Egg
What a Workaholic being of history
No pin he ever got bears his name
From many arms, he leave to mouth

Here comes promotion, the word of life
A week for him to climb the stairs
He started preparing like a Serious dead would do
Burnt candles like Bare-footed garment men would do

Organised personal vigil like Oyedepo would choose
Just to climb a bit higher
And all went a six days
On the day to Hecky-Torky

Prepares like a chef would have chosen to cook for the Lords
Spares just a little hour to answer the nature

At the end of the day lays to take a rest
So that it could come just the day

Before the Clock crows
...
    ...
        ... He wakes no more

His sweat with him now rules, but six foot below here
Like a Moses, he never saw the Paradise he longed for
A peace rest, the world bid him
Even when he could not wake to say No