Badagry express route!
It’s all the way car hoot.
With your nostril filled with fume soot.
It’s a stretch where tradesmen cast their lot.
Defiling the weather so hot.
Therein passengers traipse for this-a-that not because they are nut.
Most have no better mode
A day of twenty-four, eight hours is spent on the road.
The journey at intervals is like a stone falling down a crag,
In buses spikes fitted, eager to turn your clothes to a rag.
…a beautiful ten-line poem clothed with rhymes… I like it! Yes, in Badagry, there’s constant striving by men who defile the weather and forget the hooting of cars even as a large amount of time is spent on the road… keep on poet!
The express truly bad agree.Nice one bro.