By Sulyman Jimoh
I may not have the luxury
Of frankincense and gold
From the three wise men
Riding on through the night
I may not have the sensation
Of having the biggest star tear
Through the milky way down
To the Earth for the birth
Of the new born glory
I may not have the charm
Of having the Irókó loosing
It twigs for auspicious birth
Nor the ambience of the snow
freezing up the vast sahara
But I sure have the chanting
of prayers and blessings for
The beautiful new Earthling
In prospect of a better future
on the lips of all and sundry
Raised by their sweat and toil
Step by step the little one learnt
To walk right on the footprints
Of his venerated forefathers
And that is the genesis of
How the boy became a man
