Let's be battered again by the ancient rainfall
Ancient rainfall comes with cloudy sky
Informing us of its glorious fall
Fertilizing Land, so virilely sterile
Of fruiting apple of virtues
Ancient rainfall was the ancient times
When proverbs were the homily of life
Songs, the book of moral and fun sometimes
When we believed in good and hard strife
With forces of poverty, misfortune and immorality
Let's run naked again under the pattering rain
Then we were never ashamed, or shamed
Our fellows by petting them for mere gain
No mistake was made, and less blamed
As we played with the moon and the starry sky
Not until a path was mysteriously carved at Niger
White paddlers came with hook-baited sinker
Surveying us as if we were apes and scavenger
Seeing our beautiful skin blacker and darker
Than all their hues, mixed and formed by Leonardos
They piously wished to wash and whiten us
With their magic books and witchy feathers
That could tell the sound of men and foxes
Hence they poisoned our beautiful weathers
With their summer fumes and summer bliss
We then abandoned ourselves to be polished
We abandoned ourselves to be dyed
Our bodies were dyed and brains starch-washed
We mopped like an owl till we nearly died
Awakened now by the heavy sound of Ikolo
Ikolo is that elephant-sized wooden gong
It calls and wakes us from moronic slumber
Piercing our hearts with its truthful song
Calling us, 'ancient rainfall' to remember
Lest we drink chemical as palm-wine
