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32 And I at the tail end shall fine, So, tarry not Thy mighty order,” ‘All about turn’. Bamenda The cliffs of Golgotha, The crucifix of Buea Hang on, encaving Bethlehem. Into the crucible, The slug ventured, Killed, gave birth, And was born, Fon of Fons. Now the cycle is complete, The dagger is set, The butcher on the slab, Encages himself in bullet proof. Our Byzantium Day On that day, our Byzantium day, We the children in glazed blue, Marched tall, with heads raised high, To hail our dads, our goody, goody dads. Each of them, a grey suit wore, To match his head, a balding one, And in each, our infant eyes saw, A smouldering love, befitting the day. ...

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