They gate crashed to our home in the late morning, Dressed in the red-shirts, wielding clubs and machetes, Howling loudly that they are national party officers Protecting peace and development, that is never seen, Our country already is crushed to forlorn state Under the heavy lord of anti-human leadership, They shamelessly extorted money from my poor father Which they called compulsory party fees, for what? A political party whose name is as horrifying as leprosy, My father hadnβt enough money, they took away in addition Our only one red cockerel which was learning to crow, It worked as our family clock on its crowing in the morning, We had too earmarked it for the next **** fight fete. Our family hopes for money hinged on its wining the prize The Proceeds with which hopped to succor ourselves By funding our motherβs cancer treatment bills.