Lost pride

My grandfather told me
It was never so
The land was rich and filled with honey
There was neither too rich nor poor
The land belonged to "Tweduampong", the Almighty
Greed was no word known

He sighed, wiped some rivers down the eyes
He continued, 'till..., till...', he repeated
Till the "Obroni" came, yes, the Obroni
He took all away
All the gold, all the artefacts, all the riches, the beautiful culture of our people, the norms and traditions of our land

Now there's little to share, little to be proud of, little to love, little to tell the new generation
Then the word came to live
So we now fight for the little left, we fight for the power to own, fight against our own indigent

And I wonder, wonder if it could be any better
My solace, my only comfort is to wait
Wait in earnest for Tweduampong to come
Come for what belongs Him
For His gift to the natives wasn't appreciated