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The gunboats roars visibly
Men, dogs hurried to the mountains
Women, Sheep scrambled to the forest
Children, chicken dashed into hiding
The human merchants are back on prowl
Grosses of virile men
Dozens of virgin women
Captured, chained, cowed and conquered
Matched into the ship,
Uprooted from their origin forever
(Our) toiling, sweating built the new land
Ours land became desolate, abandon
And stagnant
As the Conquerors move forward,
We drift backward.
This is the annals of our recreation
We lost ourselves
Their language is our new tongue
Their cloths, our new attires
And their land and ethos
Our new hope
Tomorrow
We hope for home
Our spirits will resurrect
Our virility will return
Our hope is rekindled
The ‘morrow’s our
Our colour was unconquered.
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Olumide Olaniyan
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