The drum roars into the wind
listen to it when it speaks
for every beat would sharpen the teeth of your mind
and its echoes would carry you through time.
Daughter, on your waist lies what men seek to plunder
Embedded in your heart is strength from the Amazon
Raise higher the poles towering over your soul
For mere men lurk behind the thickets
Waiting for when the night is right at its thickest
Motherhood is an offshoot of your womb
It takes only nine, after which we would make merry and dine
Drinking from the finest and purest of wines.
When I am no more
When the sounds from my drum comes to a halt
Remember that which beats in your heart
Make it a guard, for it was my guide.