We see them
Bathed with sun rays
Coated with sweat
Rushing to and fro
Huge cargo their stamp
Only source of livelihood
As they get swallowed
By the ever hungry crowds
In the hive-like streets
Size! Size! Size! They go
Jiggling among people
The gods and goddesses
Shunning them like
They have no use for them
This low class mwananchi
Moving up and down
From dawn till dusk
So as to add one penny
To another less penny
But why Mr. Hustler?
Why is your account stunt?
Is it the holy tax man
Called county goverment
Who is always keen on
Taking Caesar’s for Caesar
Or is it your bitter wife
And the litter of kids?
Anxiously waiting at home
To eat out your every bit
With endless demands
Ooh poor Mr. Bebabeba
When is your credit due
For your so much hardwork
And utter enthusiasm?
Our new human motor!


One thought on “MR. BEBABEBA

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