Market Of Sin Poem by Atimiwoaye Adetunji dayo

we had long waited for thy return
we did hope for our bounty
we traded here at ease
only did we knew of your trance
and we found no peace
but fear not that our baby is born
we did wait till our cry

we were in our farm
our sin in our lonely room
our daughters all under the fan
and our old men all with their rum
we did wait till our cry

market of sin we are
we did hear of thy plot
though while attending to our pot
we knew not where we were
our ancestors tales seem near
we did wait till our cry

we paid for goods not bought
our men were priest on your farm
our daughters with you, you bought
we ate and dine with thy dogs
our weak bones still tall to walk
we wait till our cry

all these we hath done
and now our rain seem not done
all our plead seem like their rhyme
but to our market a tasteless mime
we did wait till our cry

for our fathers fought on the farm
bought all these without paying
for the fan
and now we seem reduce to rubble
to eat we need to wrestle
but all these is the reign of our market
we did wait till our cry