‘Naira and Kobo, ‘they say we spend
And from the currency table we’ve read
That a hundred kobo makes a Naira
But we can only see the Naira
The kobo has gone yonder.

It all happened in the eighties.
When a thief saw some sacks
That were filled with kobos.
The thief threw away the kobos
And made away with the sacks
Since then our kobo is lost.

The milk we once bought with kobos
Now demands the heads of our heroes
‘Where is our kobo?’ We asked
And they pointed to the museum
There a kobo stands on a rostrum.