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THE SONG OF SACRIFICE #SUPERBLOGGERS

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The Song of Sacrifice

The hut at the back of the palace is my abode
And from there many evils my eyes have beheld
The bastion bubbles with depravity
The village rumbles with rarity

So stand on the porticoes of your ritzy castles
And sing to me about sacrifice

The king and his chiefs are having a feast
While the future of the land hangs in balance
This year’s harvest is the worst in history
The people stricken by hunger as if by thunder

So stuff your belly with sweet delicacies
Stand on the porticoes of your ritzy castles
And sing to me about sacrifice

The skies have refused to cry upon the land
The people groan aloud under the weight of drought
So the royal jugs are filled with wine
To stupor the king drinks every other night

So pour whiskey down your sacred throats
Stuff your bellies with sweet delicacies
Stand on the porticoes of your ritzy castles
And sing to me about sacrifice

A man with his wife has the oracle forbidden
So the gods may be appeased and favour the land
I saw the king lure a woman into his chamber
The wife of the guard at the top of the tower

So lay down amidst smooth-skinned virgins
Pour whiskey down your sacred throats
Stuff your bellies with sweet delicacies
Stand on the porticoes of your ritzy castles
And sing to me about sacrifice

Bags of gold lay stored up in royal rooms
Into which pound-foolish hands dip unrestrained
While a workman could scarcely get his wage
Penury covers the land like haze in harmattan

So fill your purses with freshly minted coins
Lay down amidst smooth-skinned virgins
Pour whiskey down your sacred throats
Stuff your bellies with sweet delicacies
Stand on the porticoes of your ritzy castles
And sing to me about sacrifice

Women in tattered wrappers look on in unending grief
As their naked children scavenge
with pigs nearby
The prince rides past in his iridescent apparel
Royal wardrobes are filled with unworn garments

So clothe yourselves in grandiose attires
Fill your purses with freshly minted coins
Lay down amidst smooth-
skinned virgins
Pour whiskey down your sacred throats
Stuff your bellies with sweet delicacies
Stand on the porticoes of your ritzy castles
And sing to me about sacrifice

You steal my cow and placate me with a frog
My tolerance for your profligacy wears thinner daily
“The poor people do not understand it” you said
“The rich people will not understand it” I say
So sing me now your song of sacrifice
And in time I will sing you my song of mutiny.

Ogunyemi Olaitan Bukola writes on www.zebbook.wordpress.com

@zebbook on twitter

About the author

Omojuwa

In the beginning...Let there be Light http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japheth_J._Omojuwa

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