MY MISTRESS’ CORN

MY MISTRESS’ CORN

Last season, when the corn matured

We carried our baskets to the field

Feasting followed the huge harvest

My corn have done very well, so

We drew up a variety of recipes

To boil, cook and roast with charcoal

My mistress ate and savoured with smiles

This season, the corn are ripe again

In turn, she has the right over the field

The harvest was by far more than mine

She locked them up in a store and ate alone

And carried her face like she wanted to cry

Sometime it is good for this to happen

To know what lies in the heart of men

Next time I like her corn to mature first

So that when she eats without giving me

I will know what to do when it is my turn

For I too, will decide who eats what from which

Pass on the message for her to hear my views

I won’t be accused of playing a partial game

As she likes to be the judge and the jury

Make sure you have enough of the basics

Before you become everyday Santa Claus

Lest you give the last salt in the house

To the one who collects and collects from you

Then end up without any to cook your soup

For it has happened to me many times before

From those who took advantage of me