A son of Adam born anew,
Arrives into a joyous hopeful stage,
Everything set in colors of blue,
Two becomes three on a brand new page,

A son of Adam as he grows,
Has certain traditions to uphold,
None of which he yet knows,
But soon everything will unfold,

A son of Adam as he gets older,
Must bring his molders glory and gold,
To be the brave unrelenting soldier,
To be a savior and above all bold,

Now when a daughter of Eve is born,
The molders have such different hopes,
The loss of a possible son they mourn,
Then soon they begin pulling her ropes,

A daughter of Eve for generations past,
Is a puppet to her family's whims and woes,
Not a rival to the son, she is an outcast,
Never allowed to be bold or oppose,

A daughter of Eve must become a mill,
And produce until she has procured a son,
That is her destiny to fulfill,
Otherwise, society will quietly shun,

A daughter of Eve can perhaps teach,
A son of Adam she has produced,
How not to become traditions leech,
And break the circle of abuse.