Mountains of yam lumps
Spread on China wares
Like sentinels in battle
They stand in pasty stew
Of grilled mixture of condiments
Seasoned in shreds of fish, meat and periwinkles
Soaked in palm oil and seasonings
Ikokore, the water yam porridge.
When the House bubbles
It’s Ikokore day
When mom and dad smile
It’s Ikokore time
We are Ijebus from Ogun
South West Nigeria
Where Ikokore reigns supreme
A celebrated staple of Ijebu
Mouth watering paste of wonderful taste
That tickles the palate of the hungry
And cuddles roaring tommies.
Ikokore we hail thee
Served hot or cold
A welcome package
For visitors and loved ones
To charge their palates
And fill their pouches
Ikokore we hail thee
Many say you look dirty and ugly
They know not that slander you
You who host Obanta Day
At Awujale’s palatial abode
And reign in many Ijebu homes
Ikokore, we hail thee
All festivities in Ijebu land
Without thy profound presence
Is fake and fun-free
Seedless, dry and fickle
Like a barren maid’s womb
Ikokore, like your siblings
Gari, Eba and Eko
Who, clothed in white robes
Also dwell happily in Ijebu land
Ikokore we hail thee!
