Once there existed fathers
Who were actually farmers
Uneducated, yet in the know
In fields of culture they grow
Taught wisdom by life's strife
Then further, each by his wife.
For that's the true mark of a man.
Each of them was responsible
Bearing arms and the impossible
Seeding, weeding, thereby feeding
The breathing, even while bleeding
Of virtue, of valor, of voyage. Maza!
Who neither run nor fall facing Haza!
Made of unique molds called Tradition.
Fearless of seasons
Men, made of reasons
Head-on they'd storm storms
Markamarka or Jaura in forms
Their hearts never shake or shiver
High on mountains, deep in a river
Hurricanes, tornadoes, come have dinner.
Men were allowed to be men
Fire-fed by their stoking women
Who soon desired to be like them
Instead of raising and praising them
No man of worth dare hits his woman
Though the tougher half of most human
Now, the flare's over, mankind's just a kind.
Malam Muhammad Tajajjini Tijjani
Imel: mmtijjani@gmail.com
Lambar Waya: +234 806 706 2960
A Kiyayi Haƙƙin Mallaka
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