Honourable chief
Honourable thief;
The difference is clear
But we do not care.
Our brass band is ready
And our wrappers are tidy.
We shall tie it on our waist,
Making sure the side with the honourable's face shows clearly,
As we gyrate around the school field.

The women group have learnt a new dance,
Which Akwugo, with the whistle voice and waist without bones, shall lead.
The men have bought new palm wine horns
And our youths are ready with their placards and knifes sheathed in its animal leather pouch.
Our son, the Honourable chief, is coming from Abuja
And we shall welcome him in grand style.

Last we saw of him was three years ago;
When he cam with a trailer full of garri and foreign rice,
A container of hollandice materials
And a tanker of palm wine.
Money flowed and flowed
And we were all happy
And less less hungry for six months after.
We voted for him, the entire village did.
But the rice finished in no time,
My hollandis wrapper have since torn in multiple places
And the honourable is somewhere in Abuja.

"Mama George, Mama Agnes," I called on my friends.
"Eeeh ya oooh," they answered
"Hurry up with your wrappers. I can hear the sound of the Honourable's convoy. We mustn't miss his entrance," I shouted.
"Eziokwu. Oya oya, let's go," mama Agnes replied excitedly.
We hurried out into the main street
Towards the primary school.
The maracas tied on our feet, for dancing, making clanging noises like the chain of a prisoner,
As we hurried to dance for the Honourable chief,
Whom we know is a Honourable thief;
But we shall thumb print for him.
He is our son.

Please criticisms are welcomed and needed. Confused? I can explain the point of the poem