BY Kofi Anyidoho
I sell My Song for those with ears to buy
It is to a tree that a bull is tied
You do not bypass the palm’s branches
to tap its wine
The things I have to say
I say them now
I shall stand aside
from those who care
to clear their throat and
dress their shame in lies
When you meet a poorly-dressed neighbour
at a great durbar
you do not spit on the ground
and roll your eyes to the skies
The umbrella I bought
You stole from my rooms at dawn
Now I walk in the early morning rain
You point at me to our young maidens
And they join you in laughter
Think well before you laugh at those who walk in the rain.
The gifts that bestows at birth
Some had some splendid things
What was mine?
I sing. They laugh.
Still I sell My Song
for those with ears to buy
My cloth is torn, I know
But I shall learn to wear it well
My voice is hoarse, I know
But I shall learn to wear it well.