Thursday, July 26, 2012



I passed out from trouble,
That seemed like a battle.
I was nigh to success,
But I lost the access.
I encountered a wicked rogue.
Who wore a hideous brogue.
He was indeed a wannabe;
A bourgeoisie he seemed to be.
He was bodily a dweeb.
But inwardly, he was drab.
He offered me homage
With honour of a pledge.
"Where could I get change
Of Dollars without challenge?"
Swiftly, my curiosity arisen.
And my cupidity awoken.
"Bureau de Change I know."
In truth, I said to this fellow.
Verily, on this, I stammered,
At the same time, I shivered.
A friend I asked my wish
Who obeyed with no selfish.
Three of us rode Okada
To Badawa on this agenda.
A ghetto area we entered,
Into a trivial cottage we ushered.
In a box dollars were scattered;
Twenty thousand Naira was demanded
As payment for the keeper
Of the bucks, I could remember.
I paid the dough as demanded,
Later, one of them departed
To nowhere knew but Creator.
But fortune swapped the danger.
Meeting the crook man at a junction,
In Same day, I've to mention,
Caught hold of him and demanded
My money back, we requested.
"To my comrade you gave not me,
Out of my way, let me be free."
At last much when he suffered
In the hand of police, he surrendered.
My money was gladly refunded,
And the fraudsters were brutally treated!