Dear friend, can you hear the church bell ring?
It’s time to tell the tale
Of our fathers and their wail,
On how their sons were made to sail
In ships of tears, on oceans of disdain.
Its time to tell of the pains
that roamed the ancient village
Pivoted by our colonial leaders
While we obeyed and paid homage.
Can you hear the wind’s whistle blow?
The folklore of Zik and co,
That negotiated with the white folks
To set us free and let us go.
The sudden military led coup d’etat,
And incessant hunger to be in power.
The mischief by our merchants of loot
whom we safeguarded ourselves to
and yet got kicked by their boot.
Can you hear the birds sing aloud?
About the generations yet unborn,
The wonders of their time,the miracle of their dawn.
The gentleness of their rain and beauty of their sun,
The flora of change and an era of corruption long gone.
I clearly can interpret the writing
Hidden in the mystery of the azure,
Of the light that awaits the night
And hope that awaits the future.
The world must therefore hear
About this time of the year
When we trade our plight for victory,
To change the game and it’s name
And restore the land’s pride and glory.
I can hear the church bell ring,
Let’s join hands and tell the story.