Am a year older some days ago,
Yet still suffer the penury of my past mistakes of long ago.
My bowel suffers the constipation of rotten food we swallowed back ago.
Our spoken English now worse than the people of Ayetoro.
In the comic sound of “Suliat kan,Ayetoro kan”.
Shooting the bullet with the rear of a dame gun.
Back firing the shot to the chest of the same hunt.
The holiest has drag themselves into the mud playing the dirty game.
My people no longer believe the change,
Since the revolution itself has failed.
The children now wear rags even when resources were filled.
Shame on the golden barrel,
Wherein we left the soil to tap but it gold,
That placed us in shamble.
Pity! It is losing her value.
Left with us the lull to wake the sleeping giant;
Even the sport now filled with spot of many fault.
The ground failing to sprout,
Due to her long neglect.
Oh! The paper giant at Fifty Six
When will you rise?
And fight the battle Five and Six.
Stand or Arise and hit poverty,
Filing us out of this penury,
To live as one in unity.
Nailing to the cross, disloyalty.
Then shall I celebrate your sovereignty.
Poet: Oso Olasunkanmi