Papa always told me
A man does not cry
Indeed at a tender age I was already a man
Drinking oti-oka around the fireplace
With men as old as papa, from the same pot
All saying one thing, a man does not cry.

At eighteen, I was ready to start up a family
And take up the role of a man that I was
I took Abeni and gave her my hut
She gave me ten out of her womb
Of whom three were boys
I was ready to pass onto them the words of my father
A man does not cry.

As the years went by, I fell in love with my wife
As a man I needed not to feel compassion
Love was not for a man
It was always hardworking and provision
I was starting to become weak
And the words, A man does not cry, started to haunt me.

Unfortunately, the worst happened
The piece that completed me had been cut off
The apple of my eye had been laid to rest
Suddenly pain demanded to be felt
My brain could not contemplate what was going on
My mouth could not utter a word
My eyes gave way
And a glistening tear drop appeared on my face
Then I realised, A man does cry.