The Magic Cornmeal Porrige Pot Poem by Elayne Ogbeta

A girl and her mother were very, very poor
Had not a single crumb in their kitchen store.

The girl, one day jumped up and said,
"Mi gwan look some food, before we drop down dead."

The girl looked everywhere, all around the town.
But sadly for her, no food could be found.

Then suddenly from nowhere, an old woman appeared.
She was extremely fat and had a grey beard.

‘Chile, chile why are yu looking so blue?
Come on here, mi have a present for yu."

The old woman, a black dutchy pot took out
And all of a sudden she started to shout.

"Cook, cook magic porridge pot
Cook cornmeal porridge, nice and hot."

The pot began to bubble, the steam began to rise
And there was cornmeal porridge, before the girl's eyes.

"Stop, stop magic porridge pot
Nu more porridge nice and hot."

And of course the magic pot had no choice
To obey the old woman's booming voice.

The girl took the pot. There was no time to roam
She was very, very excited to get back home.

The eager girl, took the black pot out
And all of a sudden she started to shout

"cook, cook, cook magic porridge pot
Cook cornmeal porridge, nice and hot.

The pot began to shake. The steam began to rise
And there was cornmeal porridge before the mother's eyes.

Stop, stop magic porridge pot
No more cornmeal porridge nice and hot.

And of course the magic pot had no choice
To obey the little girl's eager voice.

The mother with gladness hugged the magic pot
‘Cornmeal porridge everyday nice, thick and hot.'

The days went by with joy and cheer.
As they shared their porridge, year after year.

No more hunger, no more despair,
With the magic pot, they had plenty to spare.

But one day, the girl went out to play,
And her mother was left alone that day.

She became very hungry and wanted to eat
So she placed the pot upon the stove so neat,

'Cook, cook magic porridge pot,
Cook cornmeal porridge, nice and hot.'

The pot obeyed, it began to hum,
And soon, their favorite meal was done.

"I'd better stop this porridge and put the pot away, "
But her mother had forgotten exactly what to say.

The pot kept cooking, the porridge grew and grew,
Overflowing the pot, the kitchen too.

'Enough little porridge pot, " the mother cried,
But it spilt over the stove and down the side.'

"Halt, halt, little porridge pan, " came her plea
But the porridge kept cooking, wild and free.

The porridge flowed, a golden tide,
Through windows and doors it continued outside.

"Hubble, bubble, stop, please yield! "
But the little black pan went bubbling over the fields.


The neighbors came with a worried frown,
As the porridge spread all over town.

They shouted, they begged, oh, what a sight,
To make the pot stop with all their might.

But it wasn't until the girl returned,
That they could finally stop the concern.

"Stop, stop magic porridge pot.
No more cornmeal porridge nice and hot."

The pot obeyed, its bubbling ceased,
And the town was finally put at ease.

With laughter and joy, they cleaned the mess,
The porridge was gone, but what a success!

The magic pot, now under control,
Brought warmth and comfort to every soul.

No more hunger, no more despair,
With the magic pot, they had plenty to share.

The girl and her mother, happy and free,
Living in peace and harmony.