We toil and toil tilling
With our sweat ******* the soil
Yet merrily singing our song
From the **** s crow till the sun
goes home.
The harvest is non- the - less
Still in music and songs
Trekking like to the end- of - the -
world
Load - laden till our necks go sore.
With stock in ban to feed the
whole clan
By moonlight we woo to win more
hands
Till mandiang comes back a - round
Bringing us to the start of the
round
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
We toil and toil tilling
With our sweat ******* the soil
Yet merrily singing our song
From the **** s crow till the sun
goes home.
The harvest is non- the - less
Still in music and songs
Trekking like to the end- of - the -
world
Load - laden till our necks go sore.
With stock in ban to feed the
whole clan
By moonlight we woo to win more
hands
Till mandiang comes back a - round
Bringing us to the start of the
round
This note may help , if you may
want a deeper understanding of
this poem.
I hail from a minority tribe
(Berom) in Nigeria . the major
economic activity of my people use
to be subsistence agriculture. the
Berom people have a festival called
MANDIANG. Mandiang is held or
observed in April to mark or usher
in a new planting season . it was
believed that on this day the
ancestors or gods are lured to pour
down rain , to ensure a green
farming season and a good yield
after all.
