As thick as the cloud,
In preparation for the descending
Of the “egusi”, showing your yellow
Gowns of fangs with greenish spots
Enriched with the various types
Of stocked fish and friends
Playing a game of hide and seek.
“Santana”, you will never stop,
Your pumposity growing over bounds,
Resting gallantly on an arranged table,
With your white gabardine
Encycling your skin.
“Egusi”, “kpomo” and friends,
All cowries to throw, for
A smooth entry through the mouth gate.
“Banga”? A queen of soups,
With scent leave perfumes,
In sweet beautiful accolade
To herald your coming
Arresting the tongues
In folded orgy for more.
The moulded “eba,”
Like an effigy, not a
In a yellow overall,
Attacking the hands with gum guns,
A friend to man, as it refuses
To go off totally.
In grandeur, your soulmate “Owo”
In same uniform,
Dancing acrobatics, diving into
The mouth gates,
To please the oracles in our stomachs,
Indeed you are a liquor,
Cowries and beautiful encomiums we
Pour to our shrines
Our stomach shrines