Call On Our Ancestors Poem by Mohammed Abideen Oluwalonsola

Pipe down but tell
Tell the truism about us without sham
It seem sheen of heaven shattered us with fate
Our years were lean, with no lease of life
Nadir of hope make one's mother tongue.
Pipe down but tell; O! Negro
When would our nestling breed out of bred
Have those oath nab with dotage
Your gossip would soon be cast newsreel
We would lift same fate without rift.
Pipe down but tell; Oh! Henchmen
Tell now or whimper later
To those attorney; whose soul were bless with abundant grace
Tell now; O! Hobo!
Or take your curse to grave
Their crime can make them rejuvenate in poverty.