Short Gun Wedding Poem by casmire Odinakachi Emeribe

In living, our life
The mores we met
A woman would cling to a man;
The become one
How beautiful, it is when a belle
Dance around with a horn fill
To the brim with palm wine
In search of her lost ribs
When found, is a good thing
A woman would cling to a man
Not man clinging to a woman-Taboo.
Not long ago she spring
like a morning glory
But so feeble she appears.
Her sob stories were titillating
Pity I wore for her, I took her in my arm arms
I never knew that was her desire
She has long for the master
To come her way
Not mind she was a social climber
Life has forsaken her
Her principles became dead letter.
O! This ribaldry I took upon myself
Would be a death low to my future.
I elope with her, given deaf ear to my kins folk