₦airaland Forum

The Shot (Elephantman)

Beneath a blanket of surprise
With the cold wind of death
Blowing, the night unending,
A sun sets and refuse to rise -
A small giant perpetually sleeps
Yet his candle snubbed his snuff.

Griefs overflood the desert,
As we put him into earth's care.
Our voices spoke in breath-like tunes - silence,
And for once our guns lost its voice too.
How can death butcher our trunk?
How do we console its giant shadow
That weeps, weeps and weeps?

The elephantman, the true king of the jungle,
Was ushered into his funeral in a bird,
Like a true-born king
No widow's groan, no soldier tears,
As tears aren't for heros, for he'd say:
"If anyone must die, let it be me"
Words that makes God cry,
And men smile for he gave us all honour
Knowing he has lived a reason to die.

Comrade! Now lets take our shots...


Special Dedication to Late Lt. Col. Muhammad Abu Ali (the Elephantman)

Recall:


The Shot (Lieutenant Yakubu's Wedding)

Fitted grassy suit
Lights are at its brightest
We've seen your Lover,
And the 21 concubines that salutes your guests
Relax, they knew why you chose her...
She's by your side
Always, like your heart to your head
Lay with her with pride
Beneath the flag on your boxy bed


She's still like a steel
She is, sexy under your arm,
The world that we feel,
Remain safe in your palm.
See how her mouth
Is rustling away -
Needing kisses above your numb pout,
Please kiss your bride
As we end today in stride.

The Shot (Assault Team - Eulogy of Private Abubakar)

On that hilly bush
That we're to crawl and push

Into the defense of the enemy
A place known as 'death colony'.

A very loud wail
Stops our trail.

The wail travels with pain
That could make any eyes rain.

Our faces foams foggy cloud
As a serpent stood proud

It stung again and made a hiss;
A king cobra kiss.

Abubakar writhes and cry
He knew he's about to die.

He still struggled to kill it
But it was fast; and about twelve feet.

He tried to aim its head
With his dagger to have it dead

But fails and his face went pale,
His hands were shaky and frail

Like a parkinson patient,
His breath becoming deficient.

And a hole lays three foot
Beside his bushy boot.

In it hosts a bowl of snake
Whose sight could make a heart quake.

He wondered which pains the most,
A bullet hole or poison in blood's hose.

There was no room for bravery -
No, not in nature's treachery.

Death was already his guest
It was knocking on his chest.

So he unpined his grenade from his vest
And grabbed the snake to its nest

In two seconds life locked its sight
That was Private Abubakar's last night

Now lets pop a shot of whisky
To him who made our journey to victory less risky.