Lady Of The Niger Area

It will only take forever I bet

To cast her off my mind

The thought I will bind

Cos she’s such a beauty to find.

A used to be London slave

Yet not a freeborn in her own enclave,

The reason for her laughable laughter;

Her sons and daughters.

I sorrowfully sobbed when I knew that I am born

So impoverished to be her son.

Lady of the Niger area

I have not stolen of your gbaramutu gold

Neither have I hidden your treasures of old

The abundant leftover of the Londoner’s loot.

Lady of the Niger area

Millions of your dime,

Now once upon a time

Still rich in gold, milk and honey

But what of your dandy sons

Who orders a banquet each time they belch

How you look centenarian

In your so tender middle age

That Methuselah will call you old

Just like the anguish on the face of a labouring

ape

Such is your radiance.

Naked of your rags; nothing in your bags.

Oh! I cry for you my root.

For with my flute,

I will always blow the tunes of your bruise.

By @olladave

Olladave is a singer and poet