Give me lamb flaps and I will shake your hand;
chips and cola, and I will bless your head.
Then you can be chief many moons ahead,
and I'll be your wokboi in my own land.
Sprinkle a little salt on my kumus.
You can have trees as far as your eyes
can see. In my pot pour in grains of rice,
and take the sacred stones of my bubus.
Like our fathers, we keep the tradition,
when for an axe they peddled our birthrights.
Now to give an X, we forfeit our rights,
so we can have trifles in our saucepans.
Bigmanism made sure we bowed down
to white men then, and now to a black clown.