It was as it waswhen Minstrels sang
to the tune of Nyatiti.
Yes, many, many, and many more
She painted with truth, in all their glory.
But no it wasn’t as it used to be,
not as the minstrels used to sing.
For now there was a blot
On Tsotso the elegant,
a blot on his thighs…
and a tale to tell.
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