Our life on earth is like a rose flower,
Blossoms in the morning and fades at night,
When shall the debt we owe death be cleared?
It keeps coming every now and then asking for the same old thing,
Behold a friend today, no guarantee tomorrow.
The time he won this country the Trophy
We almost changed his name from Stephen Keshi to Eddie Murphy
Just like “Coming to America”
He had all his time spent in Africa
He was a grass-roots man to the core
We salute you my brother, esprit de corps
The lips of every Nigerian sing the song of his legendary deeds
In the hearts of the Togolese, the song lingers on
Although this man is gone, but he lives on
In the memory of the living the baskets of his deeds are stored
Death, shame on you for his Trophies are not in your custody
You took his life but his couching prowess we have for our study.
How I wish weeping could bring back the dead,
You wouldn’t be lying in the cold of the night.
But let our tears be to you a light,
In our memories we have made you a Knight,
So, good night and let the bereft take things light.