Mama Africa

Mama Africa, How long shall you suffer and cry? How long shall your heart bleed in anguish, struggle and try? Forged with the brilliancy of a well-cut jewel, Today, you rust, your tears overflowing and can't even be wiped with a towel, Your resources are what foreign powers couldn't leave, they pry. Mama Africa, Struck with the sickness of the soul, your breasts now produces pus, Hard to suckle, your children hiss like a generation of vipers in a compact bus, They are known for corruption, tribalism, nepotism and wars, Ignoring your motherly teachings and laws, Leaving the fruit of your labour to sour like a wine in a yus. Mama Africa, The gods are silent but yearn to sing your songs, But before them lay unclean and shrouded things on the drums and gongs, Vultures merry on our flesh, In the centre of carcases cries new born babies, tender and fresh, Pains and blood guilts will tear us apart if you don't right our wrongs. Mama Africa, How long shall you be chained by a nelo-western influence? How long shall you watch your children kill each other without conscience? How long shall you sleep while we perish and wallow in power tussle? Wake up mama and be that giant you are known for, bustle, Otherwise, one day, our names will be erased from the slates of continental history and conference.