When would you be sung? Oh beloved sleeping comrade of Ghana
When would thy children crease around your stanzas?
More than mere words, you motioned zeal from the profounds of primogenitures
Osagyefo, Busia, and others on that podium, couldn’t accommodate thy fathomless powers
Oh, oh, oh… Ah! Ghana’s own lover and love
Unconsciously, they’ve made you an assemble formula, procedure, convention
Others have forgotten you till it’s the sixth of the third or fourth of the sixth
Well… Men say facts are stubborn things, They are justified, aren’t they?
Matin Corruption Après Midi Inflation le soir Cholera
At night, when they should retire with a cheer or a song, Dumsor approaches
Crude balance has become a mental imbalance; to some almost a ‘Quantum Entanglement’
But amidst these, you once restored hope, you raised a joyous momentum in their hearts
Oh, how you’d have loved it; that you were sung each day, with undefined devotion
That thy words would be endeared mellifluously, mollycoddled with impeccable adhesion
Reaffirm a slumbering truth; our worth, centuries better than party-talk, hatred, theft and pain;
That within us, lies the true Spirit of the Black Star of Hope!
Image Credit: ghanaflag.facts.co