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Which soul would believe it
That I died before my birth?
I am the coward
That sold his soul for pleasure
I’ll rather be a coward
Than to toil the earth with unsteeled plough
Push me not into the swamp of hardwork
My bones are too weary to act
May the gods endow my muscles with rest
For I came here not to sweat
But to fill my free heart with merriment
Written by: Olisaeloka Onyekaonwu
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson