And we’ll talk about you to everyone that comes our way

Some people say ‘oh my mum, she was ever so nice’

We’ll say ‘our mum, she paid our people’s price’

In her time, there was a market full of goods

Surprise of surprises, they sold our people there too

In chains and beaten on the ground they would seat

As others bartered and treated them like meat

Our mum, she came by with a smile, she couldn’t hurt a fly

She saw our people were tired, the sun was high

She demanded, ‘you have to set our people free’

And the seller said, ‘ah, what do you have for me?’

‘My name is Kudi, I am money, all of me

Set our people free, pay for them with me’

With her went her husband who was money to the third degree,

So many joined till the bill was paid for eternity

Tis a pity mum, you won’t be growing old and grey

But we’ll talk about you to everyone that comes our way

Some people say, ‘oh my mum, she was ever so nice’

But we’ll say, ‘our mum, she paid our people’s price.’

Note: the poem plays with the word 'kudi,' which in Hausa means 'money' and MKO's nickname, which was Money Kudi Owo (money in Yoruba).

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