Prepare your farms, let’s plant this crop,
You want wealth, this is your only hope,
Good people of Western, time to wipe your tears; no more weeping,
You’ll have so much money like the people in Brazil, already reaping.
Your kids will be educated, no longer worrying about school fees,
No more living in huts, you’ll build proper houses and sleep in peace,
How many of you love cars, I tell you you’ll have your dream car,
You’ll have that Peugeot you hear about, even a new Mercedes car.
Everyone excited, the villages in a frenzy as the officers preach,
Everyone with a piece of land wanted to plant sugarcane, and be rich,
The first cockcrow and families, from kids to the old already in the field,
Machetes, slashers and hoes in hand; well-prepared farm for better yield.
Decades later, you should see the faces of my people when you mention sugarcane,
All those years toiling and nothing to show for it, tattered clothes and behind their smiles is pain,
Most still living in shanties with hungry and angry kids, couldn’t finish school,
The majority still on bikes, few driving, even my own papa was taken for a fool.
It was all a lie, we should’ve planted food crops instead,
Had we planted maize and beans, would be far ahead,
18 months before harvesting and after harvesting, 18 months before you paid,
Later on no payment at all, the company in debts so it was said.
Folks uprooting that crop of poverty; even the ancestors were sad, no libation,
This season mama planted maize and beans, wish you saw her cassava plantation,
Still has enough land for her herd, with smirk on her face says; selling half and the rest is for her own consumption,
Will soon have enough money to educate her two grandchildren, the ones she adopted in Uganda; no assumption.