Wón kí gbe

Kábíyèsí ooooo

As her staff hits the ground

She struts

Commanding respect

Without words

Her attire


Refracting light

As her subjects bow

In respect

Wón kí gbe

Kábíyèsí ooooo

As she sits

On her throne

Adorned in gold

Her skin


Her smile


Kábíyèsí ooo

Long may she live

Ìsèkèrè in hand,

She beckons to her otun

The beads around her wrist, tinkling

What is this insolence? That, that small embarrassment of a village, Aake

Is planning to obtain my land?

She smiles, it begins small

A crooked smile

An evil smile

Then she laughs

A hoarse laughter

Deep throated, from within her belly

Resonating around the throne room

Then she stops

Abruptly, as if she never started

Pin drop silence

Staring ahead

“Ama rún won wélé wélé”

We would teach them

That mice should cower in the presence of lions

Wón kí gbe

Kábíyèsí ooooo

Kí Adé pé lórí

Kí bàtà pé lésè

Kí ìrùkèrè pé lówó


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