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Our Mother Queen

Let's juggle through the tall grasses,
The walls of colors and fine music
This is the home of our mother Queen,
She is always there for her lovely children
Push through the hills,
The jug of a million mile
Let's palm tightly our huge calabash,
Carefully sliding down our staircase
Let's pull it gently through the sand,
And get home the living spring
Have tasted it cold and cork,
Have tasted too in mama's bash
It's neither the same in taste and style
She's uniquely sited at the kitchens corner
The spring was good for our fathers,
But now pointed unclean for us children
The spring was never for profit making,
She was giving freely from her mouth
We gathered to dress our lovely queen
Together in time of our leisure
She was never depending on sun or moon
And never fail to dropp in our bash.
In this seasons of entrepreneurship,
The spring is just restricted to kings.

Written by Etebom Ekpo


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