“WE NO GO SIT DOWN”

Chant

“Ghana people make we stand up

make we fight for our rights,

We no go sit down make they cheat we every day, NO

We no go sit down make they cheat we every day, DAABIDA”

In execution of the law of this jungle,

A nation was caught in a reckless tumble,

Ignorant Khaki fingers, happy on the trigger,

Hailing the efforts of the weary grave digger,

Ripping up a nobly crafted constitution,

All in the name of a cold and heartless revolution.

Market women, our burdened mothers,

Drenched in sweat, striving to aid our fathers,

Khaki boys, their wares greedily plundering,

As we watched, helpless and cluelessly, trembling,

Junior ranks, retribution, for in their eyes a solution,

All in the name of a trifling revolution.

Whack, Smack, thundering sounds of a slap,

Signature tune on a Khaki boy’s harp,

For their only means to acquire their gains,

Was to slap the crap out of our weary brains,

And all this transpired with so much aggravation,

In the name of a dreary demeaning revolution.

And their holy leader, Junior Jesus,

We trailed chanting, Junior Jesus,

Like disciples Peter, James, Judas, and all,

Elated as we hailed the former regime fall,

All excited for this promising commotion,

Stepping and jumping for an elusive revolution.

Many below the earth, of life were deprived,

From whom their innocent blood was derived,

Were sent to heaven, who knows maybe to hell,

It seems complicated for us this day as we tell,

When our people inhaled this pollution,

That some still celebrate as a victorious revolution.

For our young ears it’s all a thing of history,

For some old eyes it still seems like a victory,

Yet for what? did our sons and daughters perish,

Seeing this day, the gains some old boys do cherish,

Is worth my why, your why, why all the persecution,

And all that transpired in the name of revolution.