Fathers
There is a house, half in ruins At the other end of the village Battered and ravaged by wind and rain Half the walls lie prostrate As in obeisance to an unseen god. The mud roof has fallen through The thatch roof cries for a layer All the timber is rotten with age And there is no gate or door To cover the nakedness of that house If only there was a father to build! Read: Village Boy Impressions - Once A Giant Walked the Earth There is a field down yonder Where thick and tall weeds grow And strangle the infant crop; The millet is yellow and dwarfish, The corn is stunted and cobless, And the cowpea run podless, There is no hope for a harvest All are accounted as forage No blade to the sward is laid For there is no father to till! There is a boy and his sister in the city Their beauty you must look hard to see Their nostrils run like streams Their nails are long and black Flies and all insects go after them They sleep in sigh