| Use the drop-down boxes above to navigate through the Website |  |
|
| Use the drop-down boxes above to navigate through the Website | |
|
| Marcus - Ras Nasibu Of Ogaden |
| A king has fallen on the field- The field of war, but not by shot, Nor even through a broken shield: He died in exile-awful lot! Ras Nasibu of Ogaden Is he-the greatest of his tribe- The man who led his valiant men With Wehib Pasha at his side. He died in Switzerland-afar, Of broken heart in his exile: He saw the end of that sad war In which he fought without a smile. The Brute of Italy had sent His liquid flames of steady death And tanks that ploughed and also rent The land and stole the hero's breath. This Mussolini, vile of heart, Who plagues the world with devil tricks, Has caused a king to lose his part In building glory with his bricks. The dream of Abyssinia, great, Was dear to Nasibu's own heart; But he has met an awful fate, And failed in this to do his part. The Negroes of the world shall wait To take their stand against the foe,, And when they fight to win their State They'll make Italians drink their woe. A Fascist king shall never rule The Blacks of all the lands we know: The Negro shall be no foot-stool, But give to all the seeds they sow. Let's honour Nasibu's fair name, And damn the Mussolini tribe: This Abyssinian's splendid fame Shall live through pen of Negro scribe. Look out for time, that's comin soon, To strike Italian Fascists down: To us 'twill be a glorious boon To have them sprawling on the ground. |
| RastafarI |
| Haile Selassie I |
