In the womb of Lion Mountains I was conceived
In her absence I have rediscovered myself
I was forced to leave you motherland
But I am strengthened by your blood
The blood of freemen mixed with natives
On the western side of a continent
A home for Africa’s abandoned children
How I long to coil in your black belly again
And smell the aroma of foufou and tola
Cooked with hog-foot and canya pepe
And the tang of Mama Jeneba’s pemahun
Dispersed by the smell of kenda and dry-fish
To fold my index finger and lick the masangé
That made me a strong and healthy boy
Land that we love our Sierra Leone
Where lunch was never salad or sandwich
But fine Bo gari and a slice of kanya à la carte
Where dinner was served at the bottom of a pot
As numerous hands competed to feed each owner
And the children were left to scrape the krawo
Knowing hands and ages were no fair distributors
Land of my humble birth where I belong
I weep for you in the silence of my night
Knowing your children struggle for life
As you attempt to arise from the ruins of war
Slowly and painfully your head penetrates the rubble
Hope and your children pulling you up
To manifest your zeal that never tires
