Saw him at his father’s funeral, even in his pain he still looked humble, When I tried talking to him on the burial day, only managed a mumble, He was distressed, some time back lost his wife, Loved her so much, the loss took away part of his life.
Now looked frail and feeble, like an old man and he’s only my brother’s age,
The one who ran away to Manchester City from Arsenal, cursing Wenger with rage,
The one who got tired of women, now raises his son alone and the boy’s growing older,
Talking about the other one, the one who comes only second after the elder.
There are rumors in the village, circulating in the market places and now full-blown,
Aunt confirmed it when she came to the City, her only daughter delivered a stillborn,
She’s dad’s only sister, said they’re saying that he looked in his wife’s grave,
And now that’s why he can’t marry again, forever his deceased wife’s slave.
You don’t look at your wife once she’s lowered in the grave, especially the one that left you no child,
But honestly do you believe that aunt, tried but she just stared back at me the way you’ll look at a child,
I know it’s a bit too harsh but what can we do, those are ways son,
Have to know these things before you get married, you’re now a man.
I know you’ll slap me aunt but that’s bullshit, can’t a man just mourn,
A wife he loved coz she died before bearing ‘m a child, is the price being alone,
If it’s true can’t something be done to cleanse it, I mean like chase away the jealous spirits,
The evil one that doesn’t want my cousin to love again, have kids and grow old in good spirits
He deserves much better, deserves a beautiful woman by his side,
A widower at his age is not right, everyone needs someone to confide,
In; share life responsibilities with, life is not a single man’s job,
Not unless it’s by choice, if that’s the case then we should let him sob.