Foul Play Poem by Haruna Garba

In this locality of ours
When businessmen used donkeys
To follow marketdays week-round
There lived such a trader here

A wife he had who had it off
With two denizens, the trader when away

One aware of the other
The other unaware of him
One day, the former dreamt up a trick
He kept watch until up, the latter had shown
And was busy in the thieving room
Then he arrived mimicking donkey drive
Again with a mighty whip flogging everywhere

He is back! How come this odd day!
And for the door, the cheater made a dash
Only to run in to raining canes

When he had managed an escape
The trickster took his place
And the rest of the drama was morning staged
For after the morning mass
The victim fellow failed to see the trader around
But lest he gave himself away, he kept mute
The issue only by the victimizer raised
And when he said why? Wasn't the trader back yesternight?
Everybody said no
But not the one tortured the previous night
He's home, so he said
Yesternight we had shaken hands

At last when majority had carried this board
He heaved a sigh and said
It's really unbelievable that he is not
And this being the case
I would say that lot of foul play
Is being played around, sure thing