Oh but they won’t let us marry their daughters. Those ones are sacred.
Let us marry your daughters, the rich men say
The ones whom the little mound on their chest grow bigger day by day
We see them swing their beads-laden waist as they move in groups on their way to the stream,
Let us marry your daughters and you shall have pipe-borne water as you have always dreamed
Corrugated roofs over your heads, heads of cattle in your fields, we shall supply
All we ask is the hands of your girl-children to be our bride
Let us marry your daughters, the Senators say
Those ones we have kept out of school by our greed, our wives let them be
We have money to spend on their every need,
The best hospitals for their care, the most dedicated of maids at their behest
No more lack of food, we promise to treat them well
All we require is their juvenile bodies…
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