Pleasure of the night laid legs on my honeypot
To bring alive my unborn children from heaven
Groaning of the day deeper my soul into spirituality
Claw of incantation serrated my waist with beads
They fed me with strange herbs and lizard eggs without honour
Clapping and dancing on naked breasts to their gods
Still and still, no evidence of fertility in this womb
And my in-laws gave me wit for slander
Yeye Oshun, the profound goddess of fertility
I have come to your shrine untainted
I am the daughter of your mystical laps
Pot of honey, pumpkin and yellow candle have I brought unmarked
To sing and dance to the spirits floating on your bosom
When hunter praises Ogun, god of iron
His gun splits tiger’s head into pieces
When birds sing with happiness
Their peaks spill sceptres on the ground
When palmwine-tapper praises
Lords of the forest in the morning
He brings home delicious gourds of palmwine in the evening
This is my morning time Yeye Oshun
Draw my children come from heaven
Their father wants to know them while still young
A man that sings joyfully after meal
Sees delight in the cook of his wife
But how can he sing gracefully Yeye
When his crop refuse to yield fruits?
I praise you Yeye Oshun, mother of fertility
Bring my children come from heaven
So that those wit-mongers that call themselves my friends
Can stop-by again to admire the potency of your power
And my in-laws to stop calling me a barren woman
