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The Cake
I talk with him and all is well again
In a contemplative mood he signs the check
My smile, far-reaching and affirmative
My heart pounds with enthusiasm
I shall add more honey in my nation`s bowl, at last!
And a bigger cake i shall bake, a whole crowd
Of my people i shall feed, so i say
But my heart is black with soot of self-centredness
My hands are sticky with gum of graft
for the money is not honey to none but me
I tell them Bees have reclaimed their honey
The cake is therefore incomplete, my kindred folk
Come, let's go and talk to him again
Oh, we have no cake to enliven him
His fidelity to us drowns in sharp rebuke
So the years roll on, nothing tangible comes
The nation in poverty it stands
Yet virgin remains our vast resources.
