Ngozi the mother of seven
God, why take her to heaven?
On the labour pain, you called her to glory
Zaply the news of her deep-sleep
traveled in hurry,
In pains and sorrow her kinsmen feast.

Muoneke's kiths and Kin mourns in feast
United only when bereaved, with empathy
Open mockery mouths in sympathy,
No mother, its hurts to see you sleep in
your prime
Elated our friendly foes are, over time,
Keeping the hurts of your absence isn't
Enduring the fate we found ourselves
sound easy.