A Full flowing ‘fro
A Low lying locs
All frocks of beautiful ‘fro
A crown of African beauty
The thickness, our curls
Like coils, forming a shield
The fullness, upon our crown
Well worn, like a crown
It is called by different names
Once seen, whatever it’s name
It's recognized, when seen at our napes
As ours alone, our head’s drape
Its hardness, shows our strength
Its tightness, our unity
Its kinkiness, shows our stubbornness
To hold on, to our roots.
Our hair roots, show our roots
Hair spun, like twines of a new shoot
Sprung out, from a soil
As fertile as our scalps.
Whatever the length, it tents our pride
Whatever the fullness, it nests our pride
Whatever the colour, it alludes our pride
Whatever the texture, it nurtures our pride
Its flexibility , shows our versatility
Its elasticity, shows our resilience
It's an inheritance, which is our heritage
From generations long, before our generation.
It tells a story, in a flurry
In a hurry-furry, not a tory-rory.
Like oldies goldies, an oldie but goodie
Once scarry, now gloried
A Full flowing ‘fro
A low lying locs
All frocks of beautiful ‘fro
A pride, an African heritage