Dearth
grow unto death, twist his ogrish neck once twice
Woe
can his flaming flames yet, burn 'em inside furnace thrice
Plight
where are your garments of gore?-- shame his pride into aught
Doom
dare his orchestra into fain, crown his princely sum some pains.
Maestro,
We leant of your miracles so, we bear your images to heart
Sam,
We feel each of your pace, as you dribble their defenses so
Ukwaraji,
The giant piece of engine of skills, whose approach entertains opponents so
Barr,
We greet your wit as hyped from Rome, we miss your speech in the court of law tho'
Rest on our warrior, a true son of our Fathers' land
Rest on our Ronaldinho, dribble 'em angels in heaven
Show paradise your skills, and make heavenly gate smiles some gold
Pass your pass to the keeper brother to keep, and rest on till we meet in fold.
NB:
Okwaraji died on this day, in action, in Lagos, playing a qualifying match against Angola. We won the match, but it ended a great loss for the most populous black nation on earth.
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