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A few steps away from the lake
He stumbles on like a blind beggar
Crossing the highway with a swagger
His seeds are weeping in the slum
His wife is hawking rotten plums
But the fool is here, breast milking
Dulled brain, of home, not thinking
Don’t caution him, let him roam
He is the stranger in Rome
Let bottles be his friends
Until his garb, poverty rends…
Written by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
