A tray of pepper spiced Pomo
Dance gently on the waiter's palm
Walking the chamber to and fro
Just for all and sundry
Flashes guesty eyes from differ corners
Like champagne let out of hot bottle
The gentlemen rush for a taste
And down it with a little liquid
The taste of blended vodka
Hurts the throat, and waters the eye
While the blood red rice and fried died chicken
Wait earnestly for a famished teeth attack
The jesters mutters jests
In comment to the chill chapman
The emcee speaks in realms
In honour of the dark rums
The cacophonous banging of beats
Filled the room with heat
The white suited semovita
Got stained by the bleeds of red oil
The cake, facade for a bake
Share it not, name it fake
See it a large morsel of eba
A wise product of wise friends
Sure it will stay
Till the end of the day
Since the sought soft plate of pounded yam are for no one
But the beholders of honours
Honouring the day, hounouring my day.
Hurray! Its my birthday.