Â
She danced innocently
In her cradle and prime
When oil hunters early called
That a mondo of oil
Is seen in her unsullied soil.
Â
It seemed like her dreams
Had caught a glimpse of light
They promised to spruce up her shack
In her poor hamlet
They said she’ll walk on tarred roads
Made of marbles and sapphires
And Manors glittering day-moon.
Â
Yes, they did unearthed barrels
Overflowing to the brim
Ravaged her soil
Working at dusk with other foragers
Her oil they put on the run
Piped under earth’s base and deep oceans
To other lands, unscathed
Far from her watchful stare.
Â
She waited
Still, she waited even more
Untill the scale fell off her eyes
Then she realized she had been deceived.
Â
I cry for her
My tears flow freely
Seeing her once rich soil
Plundered and rendered paltry.
Â
I cry for Oloibiri
My tears flow freely for her
As she lays her aching back on her sorrow beds
While her plunderers daily elope with her oil
Erecting themselves stunning alcazar
And gorging in dollars and pounds
Exchanged with her oil.