The Contree Poem by Bello Hamisu Ida

The contree, contree doom end in vain,
The boom, the rubbery, the war is bain.

The hunger, dead corps walks in pain
The masses that are bulky aren’t fain.

Who leads lie on riches, forever they lain
Walk in this peril contree like in a kain.

In poultry where the soul is the main
Target, their flesh is the food, no gain.

When saddle in dark horse which is zain,
In the dark night you saddle a horse zain.

We bless by evils in this contree; we sain?
We sing the song, vote even in heavy rain!

May be the future leaders carry us in wain,
And takes us to Ancestors; Abel and Cain.