This school is not our school
We have our own.
This culture is not our own,
I know it well.

They teach us science
What is it?
And philosophy of their own.

When they say knowledge,
Who is a fool?
Pluto, Plato are not blacks
They impose on us
And make it law.
And have us in their rule condemn
These men are wicked
Tell them so.
In our pain they make their mansion
And gave us food from our wage.

Before your Mathematics,
I know the numbers of my wives
And your Geography.
I know the road to my farm.
Before your Government,
I know my kingdom,
Before your Language,
I speak my own.

Before your Biology,
I feel my blood in my veins
Before your Accounts,
I make proceeds from trade.
Before your Architecture,
I make my mat,
Well designed.

This school is not our school
I know it well.
Yours make men proud
Ours make men humble.
We learn it from home,
So much it sticks.

Your school makes men tyrants,
Ours make a people worthy.
In your school,
our ladies are whores in naked pants.

No! not in our school.
My father told me so.

This is not our school
Our school must come again.

macaulay akinbami

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-white-man-s-grave/