Fourteen million Ugandans mad,
It is not enough to say,
That when the madness of this nation,
Disturbs a solitary mind,
It is not enough to say,
The man or woman is mad,
Francis Imbuga,
In Betrayal in the city..
So, many people are mad,
Others too drunk in the mud,
That when, i took a walk,
On the Elly Kapasi road,
I met a “dead” person walking,
Walkie talking,
With no handset,
So upset,
As he shouted,
“ Now rent ! rent!”
Ranting like a rat,
Gnawing his teeth at that,
Like Rwansirima, the rat,
That ate my foot,
While young,
To appease and reward, for my dirty feet!
It was a habit to duck with cowpoo on the feet,
With Kafiti, the Village Wag
!
So as i strolled down Nakalele road,
I heard some Kelele,
In some fence,
Although late,
It was about the fate,
Of this country of late,
That people are drawn to relent,
Relentlesly,
In dispair..
Should one disapair,
Or disappear?
I sojourned,
And joined John,
And Jean,
The two, walking in jeans..
As though to slay the dragon,
In this valley,
Like Jack and Jill..
