Comments about Servio Gbadamosi
Without the mortar,
The song of the pestle
Is one solitary croak
Rampaging a corner...
Without the pestle, the mortar is one
Thick madam yearning for love with a sun-tint face
Whenever the mortar sights the pestle,
She bleeds with joy!
Whenever the pestle sights the mortar,
He pounds with joy!
The kids, the lambs are partners in
Progress on the pastures of life
Don’t talk of one without the other and
Expect the village to retain its firesong…