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Writer's pictureEdwin Janney

EBAAHI



Your spine inhales the pangs of heat,

In droplets huge your outlets drip,

That well presents your weary self,

But weep not Ghanabi, Ghanaba,

Ebaahi, Ebeyeyie, Elavanyo.


Your soul pants from the thunders shock,

Your land erodes from rainstorms great,

Your roof blows of from stormy winds,

And dry winds tap the life from you,

Yet weep not Ghanabi, Ghanaba,

Ebaahi, Ebeyeyie, Elavanyo


The glowing sun at night sleeps sound,

With lullaby’s sang from the moons own mouth,

Backed by the pleasant chorus of the stars,

The raging storm lays down its tools,

To rest a while to take a nap,

So weep not Ghanabi, Ghanaba

Ebaahi, Ebeyeyie, Elavanyo

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