Africans I want to know
Were firmly cemented like the atoms of diamond
That cannot be pounded to as by wooden mortar and pestle
With their kindred keenness
As strong as birds with their names they appropriately bore
With their brethren love-web
Affecting all and sundry like an eco-system

Africans I accustomed to know
Worked together like ants
Put their heads together like sheep
Their traditional healers as their medical doctors
With the hoary haired as their croaks of wisdom and pedagogues
Virginity being a passport to matrimony
With their hands to fertilise the womb of the earth
And not to pilfer
But these of today’s hand are like magnet

Africans I used to know
Were very mature in harmony
But in malice, they were babes of sunken fontanels
They were very opulent in love
But in loth, they were poor

Africans I want to know
Are not tantamount to these of today
Oh! These are not akin to those of yore
True Africanism, now an added egg
A maggot in the good fresh apple
Forgetting the troth of those who inhabit the air, our forefathers
Receding faith and dwarf hope
Rusty identity and verdigrises’-bruised values
Oh! These are not Africans I used to know