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Will somebody please tell the oldma I’m still here, shine or rain I left my darling wife and lovely kids Very ill ad hungry weeks and weeks ago And as much as I really want to go home The plastic bag for “papa na come” is still empty
Will someone please tell the oldma I left my wife hungry and in labor pain Doctors say lovely triplets are coming I have been downsized and reduced to handouts The good old days of Dr. Tubman are all gone now Take home pay was so low, yes, but life was good Even on USD 15 monthly, families lived happily
Will you please tell the good oldma The cost of living is so very high for the poor I cannot afford to give my kids a good education- The best investment one can give his kids at least For months we have not had a good meal My kids walk some 25 miles to the nearest school It’s no good school, but, that is what I can afford for now
Will somebody kindly tell the good oldma I left my darling wife when she missed only one month She was not even sure that was any pregnancy I have not returned when she gave birth to a triplet They do not know my voice or face as their dad Shine or rain or dew, I’m still standing patiently here With the same empty plastic bag in my poor hands
Will you please tell the good oldma I have been standing here since 2005 With the same “papa na come” empty plastic bag I can see the rich eating and drinking lustily My appetite is gone; my family is hungry; I’m feeling bad For I’m a very loving and caring dad and husband I can only go home with this “papa na come” plastic filled
Will somebody please tell the good oldma To bring back Dr. Tubman’s good old days Even though some were very poor They still lived well and educated their kids in that poverty Nearly everybody had a home and all lived peacefully Health care was affordable; education cheap but good So, too, daily basic needs; bring back the good old days, please
Will someone please tell the good aldma When I came here, I was much younger Now I’m so old my hair is all white through and through The kids my wife born since I left home In search of daily bread are all grown They have all grown beard as white as snow My “papa na come” plastic bag is still empty….
Will somebody please tell the good oldma The high cost of living has badly looted my life Every sheet of zinc on my life’s house is torn off Even the natural concrete wall too is crumbling down Out of abject poverty, we are skeletons in the rain of life And do live at the mercy of hardened criminals Entire family sleep on the cold, cold floor
Will someone please tell the good oldma The masses no longer sob; they are crying out loudly The elderly and the most educated are the ones most isolated Paper or self-imposed Liberian zitizens are in full control And native Liberians are now foreigners in their own home The few with dollar-power are enjoying state power Frustratingly, they are Johnny just come lately with dual citizenship
Will somebody please tell the good oldma Not all and every change is acceptable to all The many zinc shacks entertainment centers around town Are not only disturbing the kids; they are destroying the future Liberia was founded purely on Christian Principles, not religious A good government digs wells for all to have life water A good government does not dig holes for others to fall in to die
Will you please tell the good oldma The love and sadness is not only great; it’s terrible I wonder if others think the power will remain Or, better still, what lesson they want Liberia to learn The people are experiencing a complex public ordeal Whatever lesson there is to learn is just too hard Tell her of the severe hunger, poverty, illnesses and death The cemeteries are filled and now refusing bodies
The good oldma is doing her level best As man is hard to be satisfied in life When Christ died for man, he still complains today Thanks, oldma, but you need to do more and better, Thanks, oldma, but you need to do more and better!
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