Your plains have become fields of blood.
Those you blessed have found it is anathema.
Your gains have become skyscrapers abroad.
The wealth of you has left peasants no richer.
Voyaging your home keep peons in flood,
Yet these waters hold no fish for the Pekan.
Black gold, the reverie of the poor and clod,
The vial from which the rich perfume their “Kaftan”.
Your viscous beauty has stirred hearts to lust.
So many have guiled, lied vied and fought.
Ogling soldiers of fortune kiss the dust;
Queerly they become you whom they sought.
Your ebony fame has left many sons with crumbs.
Hitherto, we satiated with the pride you ring.
Now, our giant egos overweigh our empty tums.
We grope, blinded from gazing your untapped ming.
Your miners came, raped and ravished our land.
Careless about the seeds and tubers that feed us,
They robbed our soils of vigour, left it bland.
Our trees and crops were blessed with a death curse.
O black gold you who has poisoned our waters!
You black gold, have starved our children!
We cried for our soils and wept for our rivers,
The case we pled, on deaf ears they have fallen.
Will I now harangue you o black gold?
Then I would be a murderer of justice.
It’s those bulgy Guts long “Agbadas” enfold,
Who have entombed our gains and your promise;
Stealthily they have robbed you of your shine.
Now we ponder what your glory was and be.
On them this guilt must stick like grime,
Till their gloomy greed will glare for all to see.