They go in as boys

And come out as men

From the cutting grounds

Of Mukanda, Chipatala, or Sipatela

Where the deed is done

To chop off that excess baggage

That crowns their man hoods

And serves as a homing portal

For that nasty AIDS virus

The barefoot village surgeons

And the scrubbed, gloved, and masked

Sharpen their knives

And make bold cuts

That lop off excess skin

To speed up natural selection

And thus evolution itself

The former boys coming out

A wee bit lighter

Now ready, are the new men

To enter the swollen ranks

Of the procreating classes

Less their redundant skins

With their chances increased

Of passing on their genes

Instead of a dismal, prematurely end

Entombed in the resting grounds

Of the HIV carnage

It’s survival of the fittest

That favours the have nots,

And not the haves

Circumcision being the word

So get that skin cut off boy

And live long and healthy

And hopefully prosper

Or whatever!