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5 John Nkemngong Nkengasong Little Chick Little chick filing out in a brood at dawn chirping praises to the new-born day in furs of crystal, soft and warm Little chick strutting into the glaring morning’s snare where the bird-prey keeps a silent watch on the cotton tree on the heath you sucked the silent night Little chick, so honest and so fair did he that gave you life frame the bitter clutches of the kite and the unpitying jaws of greedy men Stay, stay away at roost, innocent bird for the beautiful morn’s full of lusts than you can tell. Song of a Convict Listen to the weaver birds Speaking treason in the wind Nay, see the joyous fowls In daggered plumages Parleying at the royal gate In blissful libertine On towers where they roost Hear them, hear them Hear them quack ...

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