True nomads in no one place they reside
But roam Ituri forest far and wide
And dance to their molimo melodies
Those little people from the land of trees.
In comparison with other races they seem very small
And the tallest of them under five foot tall
But Turnbull made them famous with his pen
These little folk with chocolate coloured skin.
How foolish can the African villagers be
To consider them as their own property
And they even look on little Pygmy
As not one of the human family.
And Pygmies all Villagers mistrust
And they don't depend on them for living crust
In Village camps their's is quite a brief stay
Two months or less and then they are away.
Like all true nomads they are born to roam
And they love the trees the forest is their home
They gather honey fruit and nuts to eat
And they hunt the forest animals for meat.
The forest life in Africa's Congo
Is the only kind of life they ever know
But they do seem happy innocent and free
And enjoy their life and do seldom disagree.
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