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.