There is a land in Africa whose extensively undulating hills touch heaven,
bound in a nursing ritualwith the milk-white fluffy churn,
Upon Rubaga, Mmengo, Mulago, Kololo, Buddo, Namirembe and Kibuli many did spy,
of the glory, grandeurand grace of boundless horizons,
...
Thy grounds, Kisubi! And thy green ivy grass,
a monarch once told,
that here a fountain will be found. Be glad, whispering spirits!
your limb, ear, eye and soul witness,
...
Right there on a hill,
overlooking Masaka,
braced by the gracefully flowing Nakayiba,
coursing in feeder rivulets and creeks enriching the plains,
...
What became of the,
black sheep,
that ba, ba,
gave you three bags,
...
I was delicate,
lest I am,
construed as unbecoming,
I never talked of my skin,
...
I am a slave,
but why,
I am sure,
you know,
...
We shall buckle up and some of you will ride shot-gun,
my professor cautioned,
it is a random act,
said another professor from another class,
...
It is a dividend of living,
it makes conversation warmer,
for shared experiences,
increase our bonds,
...
That part,
of a longer spine,
of a large back,
on which,
...
The moon will come out at noon,
it will stand in one place,
many will raise their heads,
to behold the show,
...