The shrill cry shred the night
And their fathers poured another round of palm wine
The women smiled the 'relieve'
The moon calmed the solar jaundice!
If ''they''
now sit to steam wine
Their bent heads hung the swine
The women that sang then, now tie chains
To their tattered wrapper
He dares terror as he comes
A peaceful village now drinks cauldrons of war
For a bundle of wine and goodwill
How times have changed ''Jango of Otukpo''!
The same night shrills as he threads!
The wine hung on all their necks
If you debate…don’t! just donate
To Jango…or lose your neck
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