We gathered far and wide
To celebrate an infant born
Disappointed to see the child
A worthless bewildered baby girl...

Let her fetch the water, do the dishes
Bundle the wood, perform the chores
For in the kitchen her place lies
A lowly black African girl...

She is black, her skin attested it
Capable sex material, a punching bag
For she is fit for the fields only
A nameless lowlife African girl...

And she should not be buried, when dead
Her carcass should be fed to the dogs
For she was neither a man nor a warrior
A shadow that was named a girl...
© Callisto