Oh, thou art the dawn
Of they servant’s nature,
Thou that must quench the fire
Of they servant’s thirsty marrow,
Thou that the arrows
Of thy servant’s eyelids cannot sleep over,
Thou that the malaise molten
Nutrients in thy servant’s veins,
Erupts at thy glorious countenance,
Oh, thou art the guardian
Of thy servant’s soul,
Thou that sour and sob
At the nakedness of evil,
Thou that speak for the bees
That provides for the other class,
Thou that make the wicked blood flow,
Oh see, thou art the tenderloin of the devil indeed,
For thy heart, mind and soul are
All blank with no other value
Except manipulation and loneliness,
Insecurity and the terror of death
Are now accompanying thy cruel destiny,
Ah, the hour of thy selfishness
Has faded thy glorious tenure,
Thou have learnt to appreciate
Taste and sight only in thy dying days,
The Abosom deserves an answer
And thou shall produce it,
Thy liquor and chicken and incantation
Cannot please the ancestral spirits,
They have no pleasure in what
Thy hand has acquired by their grace,
We are now under the siege of June,
But the mighty walls are no more,
The woes of war and torment
Ahead are mightier than the former,
Famine and pre-mature death
Must also be a caution,
Oh yes, thy sense of judgement
Is well appreciated by the priest,
Thou that have corrupted
Thy present and future glory,
Thy past cannot pacify thy present,
For the current cyclone of Uganda
Has eroded the sweet-scented rose
Of thy scattered devilish soul,
Thy hymns are as evil as thy goodness.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
Oh, thou art the dawn
Of they servant’s nature,
Thou that must quench the fire
Of they servant’s thirsty marrow,
Thou that the arrows
Of thy servant’s eyelids cannot sleep over,
Thou that the malaise molten
Nutrients in thy servant’s veins,
Erupts at thy glorious countenance,
Oh, thou art the guardian
Of thy servant’s soul,
Thou that sour and sob
At the nakedness of evil,
Thou that speak for the bees
That provides for the other class,
Thou that make the wicked blood flow,
Oh see, thou art the tenderloin of the devil indeed,
For thy heart, mind and soul are
All blank with no other value
Except manipulation and loneliness,
Insecurity and the terror of death
Are now accompanying thy cruel destiny,
Ah, the hour of thy selfishness
Has faded thy glorious tenure,
Thou have learnt to appreciate
Taste and sight only in thy dying days,
The Abosom deserves an answer
And thou shall produce it,
Thy liquor and chicken and incantation
Cannot please the ancestral spirits,
They have no pleasure in what
Thy hand has acquired by their grace,
We are now under the siege of June,
But the mighty walls are no more,
The woes of war and torment
Ahead are mightier than the former,
Famine and pre-mature death
Must also be a caution,
Oh yes, thy sense of judgement
Is well appreciated by the priest,
Thou that have corrupted
Thy present and future glory,
Thy past cannot pacify thy present,
For the current cyclone of Uganda
Has eroded the sweet-scented rose
Of thy scattered devilish soul,
Thy hymns are as evil as thy goodness.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
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