Angee,
She is not nyako ker
And I got her after wer.
I toured her potentials,
She is a real black angel
Since she had ne'er reached the capital.
Angee,
She is from Agwee;
I hooked her not in her kwee.
She is truly indebted for me.
She flaps her wings over trees.
Angee,
Queen of dwee.
My begotten rib,
During your moon you talked about a trip
But thirsty not
I shall take you to my crib
We shall take probably a night
Me and you shall fight.
I shall pluck your holy kites
And fly with it up above
There in the palace of love
To adorn our holy moves.