This trap,
A sweet temptation,
Shape rounded as soft as bread,
It dripping yogurt so white
that a hard rod will scream with frictional noise.
Ekwensu watches from away,
For this wondrous nzuzu,
Eyes sin a million times,
Before the rising and falling
of the soft rod.
Though on the wrestling bed
lies painful laughters,
The nozzle pours libation
in her shrine.
Flew from this rotten dungeon,
There, comes living maggots,
Who feast on helpless carcass,
Mocking the deeds of man.
Something must send a man home,
But certainly
not this soft smelly bones,
Thighs so painful a pleasure.
Die an honorable death,
Resist this fleshy pit;
And your soul will rejoice,
Hereafter,
Chineke biko napu Ekwensu Ike.