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From your rising spring and courseing
You swept the riches of neighbourhood
And brought your precious fire of trouble,
Flow backwards, recoil like a snake challenged
You have the power,
Recoil like a creeping earthworm from aback
Picked by the beak of a duckling
Vormit your intake may be to
Benin, Togo even Ghana, yes.
You can and would rest in the same mass
When your precious fire of danger dries
We may have rest to our nose, peace to our head
And calmness to our bowl
Without you, we would have been in our
Farm huts apart,
Meeting at market places.
Shaking hands with smiling faces,
Dance together at moonlight.