Farewell Draught Poem by Haruna Garba

At last the hail has flooded the pits
Soon our baobab shall equal the pine
Once the dreary drought hits
Anything that stirs must whine
Heaven's gift after the thirty's entreats
Herdsmen then in solace, free their kine
As the tethered spoke in bleats
Women shed dual tears of brine
Men feel clad the attire of high spirits
Grass will rise and decline

When the earth bags the gifts
Frogs and newts sing hymns in their prime
Join in and make good your beats
Sure I feel like to offer a dime
Its successors are always revival bits
Coming to cloy our thirsty clime