.
Let me invite the drums,
The Gangan and omele
Let me further surmoun the sticks
All to be arranged in the respect
Of their ages and sizes
Then let Ayankola's hands beat out the rhythms
.
I plead to mama sodiq's Palm-wine
To render us her sweetness.
The gracious Omidans of this village I must behold!
The grace of steps, dexterous twists,
The exhilarating chants and colourful apparel,
Tinted with beaded waists
.
As the ascenstors come out to watch this
Colourful moment of ours
Let the gods drink to this hour
This moment is true
The storm has recided!
Here comes the calm as
The future foretolds

GBEGBELEKU
GbeGbeleku can never dance, the tune of bata seem silent too his feet, his dansiki made of the grate aso oke says no to the wind when she blows.
Omele from the rear thunder boldly whom changes the steps of men and takes them to the surrealistic world seem powerless in his ears.
Gangan the hopeful one a lion of sound 
who speaks the truth to the one with the gifted ears
Giving the body strength like never before, with saworoide he gives his cap,  still he gives no interest.
Oh Oh my sekere with your million babies you make no difference
To the company of truth.
Oya on the chirot of the gods tells me you lost hope in humanity
But you I ask if not for anything at least for the strength used in invoking the gods take a step make that change.

I miss the place of the rising sun;
For nothing makes my hair stand here.
No one to sing me my very ‘oriki,’
Nor the slightest ‘se dada loji?’

I miss the place of the ‘gangan’ beats;
For no meals shakes my tongue here.
No one to make me ‘efo oni kpomo’ with ‘iru,’
Nor the slightest ‘garri’ of ‘ijebu.’

I miss the place of the ‘aso ofi;’
For no clothes touches my sight here.
No one to tap me that very ‘emu oguro,’
Nor the slightest good-sauced ‘eja odo.’

For if not for the clarion call,
Oh! let ‘egbe’ come take me home,
With the real speed of ‘monomono.’

Oluwatmilehin Adejumobi Alabi