DEATH OF THE DEAD CULT By Mide Benedict

         And suddenly every man began to run to save his life!
        Ah! What has crushed joy on the head?
        Ah! What has made fun run to bed?

They jumped into the arena of dances,
Joy thickened on everyone's face
Lovely air, sounds of drums filled the air.
Ladies rushed out to shake their hips
To show the men seated what they’ve got.

Palm wine in cups
Bush meat in hands
Feet upon the ground
Raising dust and sand,
The celebration continued
And the songs sang themselves greatly.
And when the beings with masks arrived,
Every woman jumped
Every man hailed

Every child became friends with distance.

They danced and shook
Their bodies.
Some of these beings were with leaves all over, leaves that never fell
As hard as they shook.
Some with fire
Fire! Fire! Fire!
Fire on head, blazing like red hot coal
And in the hands of some
Were long long canes.

Fun heightened
Mood lightened
And suddenly every man began to run to save his life!
Ah! What has crushed joy on the head?
Ah! What has made fun run to bed?
Ah! What has made aged men turn babies?
Ah! What has made my heart prick?
The masquerades!
The masquerade!
The masquerades have brought a death parade!
Dead-beings from Death Cult
Have turned every villager to bush meat.
The masquerades!
The masquerades!
The masquerades!
Were now dressed in a white man's suit
The masquerades were now putting on a white man's look.

The masquerades!
Members of the dead cult
Our ancestors, coming to us to celebrate
Have become dead
The dead ones, dead!
And the living ones soon became dead too!