Crying in Hiccoughs

The Weeping African Child

12 The Beaten Pen Who swallows not, is soon swallowed, Who bites not, is soon bitten, Whom the gods crown, take the sword, For, once bitten twice shy, But twice bitten, forever beaten. With that our heads screwed their brows, And laid waste the mighty pens, Tom Mboya swam in the Red Sea, And Diallo Telli sojourned in Ethiopia. The masses stayed with sealed lips, As the Pen lost to the sword, The dark ages have engulfed Africa And all we do is, watch and see. The Weeping African Child We owe our leaders nothing, They’ve paid themselves in kind In looting our gold and silver Leaving us to die in want. We owe our leaders nothing Though we must sing their praises We know the cow is milked to death And our lives are brought to nought. We owe our leaders nothing, They maim and kill our dads, In senseless dirty wars 13 Fought for years, and years on end. We owe our leaders nothing, They build the dungeons larger, And there they cram and torture All who dare raise alarm. The Cry of the Street Man Now I know, When patrons laugh hahaha, They are eating theirs and mine. Now I know, When patrons frown, They know I know. Now I know, When patrons use the baton, They want to seal my lips. Now I know, When patrons give alms, The loot is heavy. Now I know, When patrons want to dance, I’m forced to bed. Now I know, Since nature offers little space And patrons want more, I most die. ...