Balende, balende! enter with your ten naira shange o !
And a great push me i push you
A hard earned entrance
And . . . Ouch, you match my leg!
A pulsating leg and a jaded body
I sat down
With my ten naira in fist
owo da wa ju
My eyes settled and behold
Women and children seated
Remembering how I fought
Wondered the magic behind their entrance.
A dreary silenced journey
With the engine of the vibrating volks
Then a familiar road end jam and
I disembarked with a sigh
A sense of relief and success
And yet unknown, a picked pocket.