Dust we are,
Dust on our feets,
Dust on leaves,
On windows,windscreens and roofs,
Dust everywhere,
This is harmattan.
Dry skins we carry,
Dry we look,
Dry air we breathe,
Our nostrils hurting,
Grasses drying and dieing,
Except their roots waiting,
Tis harmattan.
Tis Harmattan,
A time of dryness and dust,
The reign of the Saharan wind,
Dry,dusty and cold,
Rains they drive away,
Tis Harmattan,
And we feel the worst of it
Here in the Tropics.
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