She used to carry the calabash
Precariously balanced on her head,
From the river she will come
With hips swaying
To the rhythm of beating hearts,
My dimple cheeked
and slender waisted maiden,
Please don’t send the elders away
They come to behold the wonder of nature
And lay their eyes on Africa’s fairest scenes
For you are really amazing,
They come to ask for a gourd of water
And present you with one of my fattest bovine,
The grain lay upon the millstone
And the grindingstone
Await for your arrival,
Let them come from near and afar
Let them come and rejoice with us,
Let them come from the backyard
While the cow dung still lay fresh in the courtyard,
Let them come in songs and ululations
To welcome their maiden of pride,
To welcome their loved bride.