It's a beautiful brand new day,
And they finally have their way.
A battle meant for peace,
Should have been fought with ease.
Keen to make it at all cost,
Even that which is already lost,
King of the north
Versus one who's had enough;
Kin of the south.
On grounds so tough,
With words baked to be rough.
It's not so surprising,
The wave was uprising,
Like snakes, they kept hissing,
Forgetting the glory day is missing.
Different party colours,
One people with different orders,
One may have won,
The other seems gone.
Verily I say to Ghana,
Who can tell the mind of God?
I ask in a good manner,
Did we choose a king or kin?
Maybe we overlooked, for our thumbs were so keen.
Or our choice was for a man who isn't mean.
He who battles and runs away,
May not do so for fright,
Nor for his passion to sway,
But for the sake of moro's fight.
It's a new day,
Particularly a thrilling thursday.
But things might not go the old way,
I only suggest Come what may,
Don't forget to pray and play.
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