They came out,
branches in hand, singing: Aende, aende,
"We need one of our own."
He left quietly,
And they chose one of their own,
Mtu wao.
But mtu wao was a wolf,
A wolf in sheep's clothing.
He stole from them.
He stole their roads,
He stole their schools,
He stole their hospitals,
He stole their hopes,
Everything meant for them,
Mtu wao took it.
Yet still, mtu wao was theirs,
Through rain, through shine—unchallenged.
Mtu wao knows: "ona igitunyuo mwana ni ikagirio mungu."
He gives them flour,
He gives them sugar,
He gives them tents,
He gives them beans,
He gives them chicks,
He gives them two hundred.
You cannot touch mtu wao,
He has the ground,
And the ground is powerful.
