THE COTTON - BY OLANIYI ABDULWAHEED

If debt has squeezed the ribs of your hope
And your sun, stranded in the strife
With every penny, you journey in exile
Here, see the mirror reflecting the sun of your day
I swam in the oily sea, I drowned
Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost
Dying in the raucous of inflation
But here the holy-wood, saved my soul.

Listen to the sonorous song of the savannah
Heed the holy message of the wood
Tarnish not the white garment of my cotton
Hasty to the textile, beckons the cotton.
I swam in the oily sea, I drowned
Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost
Dying in the raucous of inflation
But here the holy-wood, saved my soul.
The flesh is agile like the skin of omelette
The blood is naked than the skin
Every vein shivers, every eye is blind
If failed to honour the counsels by cotton
I swam in the oily sea, I drowned
Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost
Dying in the raucous of inflation
But here the holy-wood, saved my soul.
Textile, the lord of every beauty
The hope of clever merchant
In the heart of the North, the cotton
The dawn of merchant’s day. 
I swam in the oily sea, I drowned
Lodged in merchandise of barrels, I lost
Dying in the raucous of inflation
But here the holy-wood, saved my soul.









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