Let the gods shine smile on me The sky is a poet's page, And I, the long waited writer.
My hands fashion words,
The tongue of the poet lingers to talk.
Ajala, you moulder of heads,
Mould me another head to this which I carry,
It's not your neck that will carry the load,
Perhaps you should add more strength to my neck too.
Oh, I forgot your speciality
You only mould head not neck
In the head I request of,
Put lullaby and lyrics,
So as to ease my sport for women Ajala, see me not as a ladies' man.
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The gods have so designed my fate To be that of a lover of women.
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