Your face is the mother of the child
O! Nigeria; once again have I disclosed
your features, before I was called.
Truth is your womanhood, as mine is a child.
Sentimental shadowed me till bath
In warm difussion freezed, I stood birth.
Be still and know that i’ve come,
Weeping to be born again in resonance
Of sound and scar; cliping ringlet oval my face
Spotted around the curve-sight-seated my defence
In the just law court, thatch roof, there am Africa’s
Number one birth reincarnated evidence.
In the still warm womb; near your ulterus
I am called upon to showcase your features.