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Let every flower be what fair fate fears true
Beyond vain valleys of cursed croaking frogs
The lone mountains mourn fetters of mad fogs
And the firm face of the sky fades from blue
Arise from the dust, top national dogs
Let your whip shiver and faint as it flogs
The groins of righteous goats that dare to mew
Beyond vain valleys of cursed croaking frogs
Your axes blow the barks of withered logs
Brawns boast many, but cannot face a few
Arise from the dust, top national dogs
It is time for our land to bathe in bogs
And let green gardens glow as poor hunters hew
Beyond vain valleys of cursed croaking frogs
Out of our sweat, you steal the fattest hogs
And watch the thin masses feed from sour stew
Arise from the dust, top national dogs
Beyond vain valleys of cursed croaking frogs
Written by: Chinazom Otubelu
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