My pen bleeds but won't be silent ,
It is as an arrow in the archer's hand,

Another sacrilege has been committed,
Another wreckage has been wrought,
A daughter of the soil has been violated,
Cudgeled, battered, smitten and vitiated,
Subjected to agony such excruciating,
And left in a condition greatly debilitating,
She fought but lost to Azrael, the wicked.

The perpetrators are out there on the soil,
Elsewhere looking for another one to spoil,
Another one to violate; soil in her own blood,
Could it be the girl whose breast has just bud,
Or probably a woman blooming in her prime,
Or another girl who is reading in her pastime,
And the aged woman old enough to die.

The violated is a daughter of the soil,
And for this, let the cauldron bubble,
As we invoke upon the violators, toil,
And we call upon them devil's trouble,
For them we will sing the devil's tune,

(Chant)
The earth under them will be grossly hot,
The heavens above them will be shut,
The day the dog enters the tiger's house,
It has called for a horrendous bloodbath,
The clay pot that dares the palm kernel;
Must already be prepared for breakage,
The next time evil is attempted by them,
Let Sango answer them with thunder,
And 'Esu laluu' prepare to drink blood,
Surely, it shall not be well with evil doers.

Daughter of the soil, life cut short,
Rest on, but afflict your violators.

© PenEmeritus 2020