They say she left
A just boobbed teen
Seventeen and no more
In chase of riches
They say she went south
Of the village she knew
With no one as guide
But her whiff of money
And the vision of plenty
They say a song sung
Praised her endowments
As she danced the pole
Charging fares all night
Then drums ceased beating
They say Mtwapa
reeks of money
respects no beauty
knows no Husbands
knows no Belle
breaks them all
They say Mtwapa
where sin sojourns
sent her home
in a casket to rest
just like the rest.
The Literate Gardener