There at McGregor, out on the parade ground
You can see afar, for a hundred miles around
The town of Afikpo looms in the distance
Beckoning to you, who looks at it askance
Between the both of you, staring but unseen
Are the ageless hills, looking lush and green
They are undulating, gentle as a river
Beckoning at you, calling you to come closer
Away from McGregor, as you go to the North
Abakaliki calls, calling you to come forth
Its busy shops await you, to buy their many wares
The motorbikes are waiting, to charge expensive fares
On your way to the North, Ezza will wave at you
Wishing that you will come, to see its people too
Its many clans and houses, have empty rooms aplenty
If only you’ll be willing, you’ll live and bask in plenty
But wherever you choose, to stay in Ebonyi state
Then choose to not forget, not by an act of fate
Those ancient rolling hills, which you see at McGregor
As I am well convinced, that is what you are there for
Toyin Taiwo © 2012
Chronicles of a Journeyman 