Good tetrad years!
The years we metamorphosed completely,
As we all festinate to early morning lectures.
Alas!it's over,.
But , here comes the Clarion's call.
A call to serve our father's land.

Like a soldier ,
Who goes for military training,
So we prepared.
The goodbyes from friends and families,
The giving away of things we saw as irrelevant.
Like the feast of passover,
We called our last meal at home, the passover meal.

Absurd, but it indeed might be the last.
As we embarked on a journey of uncertainties,
So did all the smiles and courage wane gradually.
A new mask branded us, fear!
But like the soldiers , a new found courage enveloped us.
If we die, we die honourable while serving our country.

A country such as this,
Is it worth our blood?
And there goes the call to our families and friends,
The phone call that disrupted their lives!
Caskets adorned with the country's colour.
Our friends and foes , who were lucky to be alive
Feigned tears, some were bitter!

Here comes the ones with pot bellies ,
Clothed with their magnificent agbada,
With heads bowed down, and a fat envelope.
Compensation they said, but could that pay for the
Years spent and the joy of having one who is learned?

To some the Clarion's call was beneficial
And to others it caused agony!