It's time, a tree-mass patrol.
Poverty, the Carol leads.
Who fell in this?
We, that don't have't done
Here in our Carol deed.
The mass choir,
Fufu tying gele.
Eba on suit with red tie.
Rice at the forefront, moody 'n' drizzle.
Who buys me this season?
Chickens, being instrumentists,
Played off-tuned cacophony.
Staccato for crescendo, innuendo for diminuendo.
Soon garri 'n' groundnuts invades.
With shots of poverty shoots.
Fufu with loosed gele,
Eba with tie down
Rice alerted, ran helter skelter.
And there the Christmas carol lies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem