The spirals of September carried our son,
To the edge of life, beyond our reach,
Where fate resides; in his arms luxuriating.
A deep chilling silence has engulfed us,
And sorrow hath clenched our hearts,
A bleeding why? We howl and scream.
A greater son, the motherland has lost,
His fall, a thud louder than the oak tree,
Trembled and humbled the nation.
He’s no more, our son, brother and father,
Fallen and cold, a nation laments,
A statesman chaste, a finest man.
Amongst wise and bold, his name writes,
In golden letters, his deeds glitters bright,
A selfless service, he journeyed in life.
Our country and God, he served wholly,
Dirges, the drums beat, bellowing sadness,
That hath frozen our hearts and limbs.
Wreaths we arrange instead of bouquets,
With heads bowed and arms folded,
We wail, ‘cause our eyes froth with tears.
‘Ewurade nfa wo nsie yie’, a prayer implore,
Amidst our sorrowful sobs and sniffles,
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