This morning woke us up
With the strident cacophony of our old friend
The brilliant rogue of this helpless jungle
Singing the coming rites of new power play
In constant appellation to the kindest kindred casts
Of this age-long jilted jungle
Here comes the gallant return of that juggler
Glowing like a peacock prince in his regal attire
And buried in his reckoning steps
To the ritual dance of the throbbing Bàtǎ drum
Chiming sonorously towards the South, East, North
And the Western shrines of our jungle’s Kingmakers
To welcome him home again
Into the sacred palace
In this Second Season of Ritual Acrimony
So that he can strip off completely
His evil plots; to prove his acclaimed ingenuity
And launch his final onslaught
Upon our sacred honours; then
Whips us down to earth
This Second Coming…
Let us all make smooth the path
Fellow Kinsmen!
For the gallant return of this glamorous liar
So that we can forever groan in pain
Under the deadly claws of the whip
Of this fearless treachery burglar
As dreaded more than the harvest
Of the last ferocious festival
Let us rise up in standing ovation
And lead him majestically to the Royal Chair
Let us again crown
And make him our King!
Let him wear the Royal Shoes
And put in his neck, the Royal Beads
Let us place in his hands
The Majestic Horsetail
Let us lay before him
All the ritual ingredients
In sacrifices to the Royal Gods
To make for our final funeral rites
In this Second Season of Ritual Acrimony
Let us clear the thorny path
For the return of this friendly foe
So that we can go on moaning…
Howling…and wail…in endless labour
While he sits in Aso Palace
Amidst mass stolen affluents
With his two gap-teeth going wild
In endless laughter; and mock us
To our Death
This Second Coming…
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