Strife Menu Poem by Habib A. Zakari

Come to table kindreds alike
we are no strangers to our manor's tale
Our meals have new flavor
We shall now take tea with bile
Other meals too with scalding spice
We sure could agree
Our bride needs money to adorn garbage

We Embraced her love
Her beauty of false endowments
We stood her stand in tumultuous loses
And she would hear not of our roasting fate
In lightning choice to drown us in misery
She traded our succor for sour bargain
They call this bride the choice maker