My countryside, Ebelle
Besieged by hopeful kith and kin
The dusk seems so long
Waiting of the never reaching dawn
Bedeviled by luciferous men
Hunting the best of tomorrow
With envy, dispensing so much sorrow
Limiting the progress of their own
You cry for development
But your offspring cause your torment
O Ebelle, so close to nature
Yet far from being mature
Shadow of a deserted village
Emptiness written on the forehead of your kin
And infested with dull gold smiles
Watching technology from afar
Your kin, wasting in a local bar
Your Diasporas has left you to rot
Which day cometh your resurgence
Your quest seems so hot
But your development was never thought
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