Words of Africa

O how have I suffered such great graves! I have been pierced by the swords of my kings Injected with the liquid of their corruptions They have rescinded my harmonious names They have plucked away my treasures, With every good of mine Possessed unto themselves as stern, And given them to foreign sons. For self-benefits they have sold me to them, And these Whitefaces treat me anyhow Just like I was a cow; To implore each their gem In their own fathers’ land. I, even I Africa, am replaced for a ring in my destroyers’ hand. I have thought my kings would therefrom free me But they yet serve them rather than me. Woe to they that are presidents of poverty! Wretched are the princes that pervert my people; Cursed be the prophets that preach tribalism and nepotism; And wicked are they that set my peoples asunder!