Happy Birthday My Baby Girl
Today you are seventeen years old;
We have brought to you our lineage gold.
We have brought our swiss vevelt lace
And sweet powder for your cherubic face.
Happy we are you are not a "broodlord":
The broodlords, the unhatched -
They say eagles waft in the air,
They see marauding cobras in the jungle,
They shrug at the pain of laying,
Grimace at the fast of brooding;
Tick, tick,tick; broodlords rot the eggs.
March 17 you broke the wall;
The honey was not spilled, the jar was not broken.
Seventeen years now you are pruning your wings.
Sweet to see you bristling your breast.
Happy birthday my baby girl;
Next year I shall greet you again.
For my daughter, Amogemola, on her seventeenth year birthday.
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