You sway bravely in thunderstorms
Firm with your million roots
Sturdy like an unbreakable stump
Abating the rushing winds
With claws to uproot other trees
That deprive the homes of roofs
But you wave in jubilation
Flouting the deadly twist
Your fastened bundled belt broom
Is our proverbial strength in numbers
And it will sweep us clean of filth
Which is carried away in your baskets
Of fronds upon which hang nests
Where birds find their security
Under whose shade we take our rest
When the sun’s zenith approaches
The men will meet in the square
Sit in horse-shoe with sparkled eyes
Staring the gourd in the centre
Ready to loosen their long tongues
Let the calabash receive white substance
And tilt at the mouth sieved by mustache
Down it goes to unleash the secrets
The gladness is in your stem, palm
They thought you had expired
When the last palm wine drained
To the elements they abandoned you
But it was only a matter of time
For the forces made you alive
When the children shall next visit
From your bosom abundant mushrooms
Escape little hands into big ones
So sway, gentle sturdy palm, sway
Dare the storms and the thunder
Plant your million roots earthly deep
Stretch out your palms, your hands
To welcome yet another sparrow
And block out rays for the weary
When the mighty succumb in the torrents
We shall return to find you still standing