Passed are the years of ill-solidarity
Passed are the years of peace uncertainty
On this cleansed treasury terrain!
Forgone are the hours of social mutilation
Forgone are the moments of cultural alteration
At the shore of our sanctified sanctum!
Let the wordsmiths preach
The gospel of fraternity
Through their unblemished epistles,
Let the wordsculptors etch and
Mould out words of emancipation with their ink-rod
Perusing their wide spread Iroko-sheet,
Let the dramatists conjure and wrought
Scenes plotted by the wordsmiths
And act the Acts etched by the wordsculptors
On both the in and out door stages
Continuously should this crusade
Parade the shores and coastline
Of this maggot grown and dilapidated land
Suddenly would change emerge
And songs of peace would over throw
The mouths of the troubled hearts,
Both the young and the old would sing the song
Of love, peace, harmony and total freedom!
