He is like the boy that chased Mary when her oranges just began curling up above her ribs,
After getting even with her, he evacuated her premises and took away her juices,
Leaving her with unwanted pregnancy,
He chases each tree in the swamp that's ripe like the mangoes that fall in April,
He rip her innocent body apart pouring liquid that sooths his anxiety,
Which runs through his vessels waking up the potent gentle jack sleeping like a rock beneath the sacred bed,
Her takes her riches out of her body and dump her like toilet,
He promises her heaven and earth as he loads and unloads his gourd,
After she loses all her vitality,
He escapes from his promised maiden only to seek another leaving her at the mercy of beetles,
If the Palm tree could talk,
If the Palm tree could walk,
Then situation could not be repeated,
But oh yes, she talks, but the only thing is, no one listens,
The Palm wine tapper destroys her destiny,
Take away her vitality and pays no attention to her calamity.
For How long?