On the Oba Street

A death again on the Oba street,

The town crier has announced its coming;

A Kinsmen again has traversed the pit

Another meek and lowly mourning,

A home from home has been thy abode,

Thy square is for merriment adorned by ladies,

A shelter thou for the young, stray and old

Now thy silhouette is like a shadow of the hades

Oba street- the sacred place of refuge,

The shibboleth has taken over thy town,

The indigene opened their doors before the deluge;

They accepted the beast that kills at dawn,

But a pact to only come for the commoners,

They sit their gods at the square we adored,

They forgot we built with the forerunners,

Thy once peaceful abode had lost its accord,

We toiled this land with thy ancestors,
Our fathers only sojourned here at thine plea,
Thy prosperity came from our investors,
Why now subjecting us to be killed?
Why uprooting our trees from their roots?,
Our gods are not human eaters or a demon,
Nor like those visitors that suck and loots,
They changed you all with their venom

Their dogs will soon be at thy post,

The inhabitants has deserted their homes,

Those foreign gods will soon prey on their host

Their shrine will be lined with thine bones;

Wake up now and chase away the foreign gods,

Tear them down and pierce them with sword,

Reclaim thy lands and be thine Lords,

On the Oba street, the strings has lost its chord

(Poem: “On the Oba Street” by Olorunleke Odubote)