Mean Beer Vendor Poem by Haruna Garba

Here where beer is sold crude
By old women brewing local

There lived this crazy drunk
Who was always after beer gift
Tough on him

He walked about, soliloquizing
Wicked words always on his lips

Drank by putting on the bite
Really tough on him

And one day I caught him
I caught him muttering to himself
Muttering about a wicked thing

These grannies
Such a one that never gives out
How I wished I would have been asked

By any of them if i had been asked
To improvise a cornstalk bunk for her
I wouldn't have improvised any
Not until after I had scouted around
Scouted and collected feeble variety of stalk
Such a variety as had osteoporosis on them
So that when she'd come home beat up
Beat up from her mean damned sale
The moment she entered in to bed
And in her sleep had lost all sense of caution
And had started the side-exchange things
Then would I have heard hundreds of cracks
For the moment she'd turned one way
Craaaaaaaaaaaaack!
And if she had turned the other way
Craaaaaaaaaaack!
And eventually, spreadeagled, found
she would have'een
On her sordid floor
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha