In the heart of Ibadan North, where voices cry,
For leaders who see, not just pass by,
There lies a void, a yearning deep,
A promise lost in silence’s sleep.
From Oke-Sapati’s waking dawn,
To Bodija’s market bustling on,
UI’s scholars, Sango’s beat,
Samonda’s youth with restless feet—
They echo one resounding chord:
“Give us a man we can applaud.”
He is Bibire, a noble name,
Not chasing titles, nor hungry for fame.
He walks the lanes, he knows each face,
He’s felt their pulse, he knows their place.
Where others talk, he lends a hand,
Where others scheme, he takes a stand.
Bí o bá dé Mokola, and stand near the stall,
You’ll hear them whisper, “He cares for us all.”
At Agbowo’s gate or UI’s wall,
The students nod, the traders call:
“Ara ilu ni, kò ní péjọ!”
Bibire is theirs—true and thorough.
He’s not just a man, but a bridge of grace,
Between forgotten streets and the power place.
Philanthropist, patriot, the people’s friend,
A leader who serves, not one to pretend.
So PDP, take heed—see the light,
In Bibire, our cause is right.
Let not this moment fade to mist,
Nor let the people’s hopes be missed.
Ibadan North needs not just a name,
But a servant-leader who plays no game.
Let us rise, let us rejoice,
Let us make the people’s choice.
Fill the void, let voices sing,
With Hon. Bibire, let progress spring.
A better tomorrow is within our reach—
With a man who walks the talk he’ll preach.