Like the dews of the early morning rains,
The dreadful cult is roused to action,
Slumber murdered, the powerful Oro is resurrected.
With a double-edged machete it shall strike,
To purge the lands of the evil,
And cleanse the streets of all malevolence.
The merciless cult,
The harbinger of the great Oro,
The instiller of fear in the hearts of the strong
Will hold the land captive in its grips,
And deal with evil and good together.
It will kill, maim, damage without remorse – without pity.
Agboroode – Won ti gboro de!
Peace will be sentenced to death
Blood will flow in streams,
Farmlands will be smeared,
Roadsides will accommodate the dead,
Graves will disgorge their interiors,
Even the sun will dim in trepidation,
When the Oro begins its purge.
The ‘opele’ will grow heavy in the palms of the soothsayer.
The Oracle will weep in silence,
Even the clan of the herbalist will not be left out,
When the Oro unleashes its terror.
Let those in the farms not return,
Let those on a journey stay away,
Let those on the road wail for their death is nigh.
Tell the mothers to cover the mouths of the weeping children.
Tell the fathers to gird their loins and prepare for the evil that will befall all.
Agboroode, Let the children run,
Agboroode, Let the women hide,
Agboroode, even the strong and powerful will not be left out.
The cult has risen.
The powerful Oro has been invoked in the daylight.
The menace that terrorized in the past in the name of purge has been set free again.
Lives will never remain the same.