The sugâ galantly stand around
with their spears
Dressed in goat ' s skin with painted
faces and hair
Their countenance say ' do not dare '
A direct contrast of the square ' s
light air,
Which is exagerated by the
tipsiness from the locally brewed
beer .

With dances the festival began in
earnest ,
Each dancer stamping hard to
make his beats the loudest.
The tipsy audience laughing and
cheering their best ,
Men, like chimpanzees , beating
their bare breast.
Mandiang is all, anything else is
being put to rest.

The drull drum is a - play for the
sugâ dance
Marking the ****** of all that has
and is to chance ,
The majestic monarch march for
the entrance
And the time for the rain - making
ritual to commence.

So it, at the end , rained as usual ,
The welcome crown of this annual
ritual .

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