From “Hail Thee” to “Fail Thee”: Why This Anthem Should Stay Retired.

By LaBode Obanor

Ah, the national anthem—a country’s ultimate mixtape opener. It’s supposed to slap hard, inspire tears of joy, and make you puff out your chest with pride. Yet somehow, in 1960, Nigeria ended up with “Nigeria, We Hail Thee,” an anthem that’s about as exciting as a soggy piece of jollof rice. Let’s dig into why this anthem was wrong back then, is wrong today, and honestly should’ve never been invited to the party in the first place.

Written by Who Now?

Picture it: You just kicked your colonial overlords out of your house, ready to redecorate with your style and your vibes. But then they leave behind a “Welcome Home” banner… written by them. That’s basically what happened with “Nigeria, We Hail Thee.” The lyrics were penned by Lillian Jean Williams, a British expatriate, while the tune came from Frances Berda, another non-Nigerian. It’s like borrowing your oppressor’s diary to write your own manifesto.

How did the National Assembly and even today’s leaders (hello, President Tinubu!) not look at this and think, “Wait a minute… this doesn’t feel Nigerian”? Were they too distracted by post-independence vibes to notice this red flag?

An anthem written by outsiders is like wearing a borrowed suit—it doesn’t quite fit, and it definitely doesn’t capture the swagger of the Nigerian spirit.

Lyrics That Could Fit Any Country

Let’s talk about those lyrics. They’re so generic, they could’ve been slapped onto the national anthem of literally any newly independent country. “We hail thee”? Sure, but what exactly are we hailing? Where’s the reference to our rich cultures, our resilience, or even our particular love for pepper soup?

It’s like the writers were handed a checklist:

• Praise the country (vaguely).

• Say something nice about freedom (briefly).

• End with a hopeful note (meh).

This anthem didn’t capture the Naija spirit—the chaos, the diversity, the hustle, and yes, the jollof supremacy. It was a flat, uninspired tune when what we needed was something that could make your blood boil with pride or at least make you want to fist-pump the air.

Too Chill for Its Own Good

“Nigeria, We Hail Thee” wasn’t just bland; it was passive. It basically said, “Yay, we’re free! Let’s chill.” But Nigeria isn’t a country where people just “chill.” It’s a country where you hustle, where every day feels like a competition for Best in Survival.

An anthem should rally people, make them want to grab a hoe, a pen, or even a microphone to build the nation. But this one? It barely gets you off your couch. No call to action, no fire, no sense of urgency—just a polite round of applause for independence.

“Arise, O Compatriots” Got It Right (Mostly)

Fast forward to 1978, and someone finally said, “You know what? We deserve better.” Enter “Arise, O Compatriots,” an anthem that actually slaps. Written by Nigerians, for Nigerians, it calls for unity, loyalty, and rolling up your sleeves to build the country. Now this is the energy we needed all along.

Sure, “Arise, O Compatriots” isn’t perfect (we still skip the second verse like it owes us money), but at least it sounds like it came from people who understand what it means to be Nigerian.

So Why the Nostalgia for “Nigeria, We Hail Thee”?

The idea of bringing back “Nigeria, We Hail Thee” is like someone suggesting we revive cassette tapes as the future of music. Nostalgia is cute, but let’s not confuse it with progress. Re-adopting this discarded anthem feels less like honoring history and more like scraping the bottom of the idea barrel.

At a time when Nigeria is dealing with issues like economic instability, ethnic tensions, and politicians who seem allergic to accountability, the last thing we need is an anthem that reminds us of a bygone era of mediocrity.

In Conclusion: Thanks, But No Thanks

So, President Tinubu, “Nigeria, We Hail Thee” might hold some sentimental value to you, but sentiment doesn’t solve problems. We’re not out here singing for vibes alone—an anthem should ignite your soul, not put you to sleep. If you can’t give us something fresh, fiery, and dripping with that Naija spirit—something that screams hustle, resilience, and a sprinkle of suya spice—then please, for the love of all things spicy, bring back “Arise, O Compatriots” immediately.

At least it knows how to hype us up! Because if you’re out here recycling weak lyrics like leftovers, let me just say—Nigerians don’t eat cold jollof, and we sure as hell won’t sing a lukewarm anthem!