We always say our land is desecrat’d;
by Eche Ononukwe
that the whites from the wintry land
came with their heavy machine guns,
firing here and there our aged-civiliz’d land
like Shylock on the flesh of Antonio.
But we’re quick to forget
that we fought ‘em heart and soul
to claim back our enslav’d land,
which they demanded from us –
they won us, we won ‘em lat’r.
After a long period of perpetual chains,
we won our land, thanks to our Chineke God.
Now we rule ourselves yet enslave ourselves,
with our acquir’d colonial mentality of rule-and-divide,
standing in a platform, mouth wide open
like windows of heaven about to let a heavy pour.
We preach a corrupt free society,
yet we’re corrupt in our heart.