Kubolor

Adjetey won’t you stop playing with car tires and help your mother sell fish?

Your mother helped her mother when she was your age, won’t you do the same?

It was just yesterday, that a ‘trotro’ almost run you over but the driver and mate were not to blame.

Adjetey it’s enough swimming for today at the beach with more rubbish than sand,

Staying at the smelly shores, cartwheeling and imitating live bands

You don’t repair your father’s fishing nets; you would rather join the boxing spectators in the sun.

Adjetey, Accra is a starving widow that eats the left-behind alive

The only English word you know is ‘sea’ but that is not the matter; the matter is that you don’t try

All you know is your little boy gang, all you know is the kenkey and shitor on fire.

Adjetey, houseflies swarm around the sore on your leg; the one you got from joining the motor riders as they screeched in town,

Come, carry your mother’s goods on your head

Back home to your shack; it’s late and the mosquitoes are gathering.

Adjetey, tomorrow you can join you father’s boat go

You know, the one with ‘Gold Coast’ painted on it in rich yellow

Tonight, I hope you dream of mermaids and ships.