Water folds her legs,
Down the Dambo borehole,
Or the River Linthipe Bank,
As women with children cover their backs.
When Gogo darkness comes,
Somewhere before another Sun is born,
Ababa sits legs at-joint,
And breathe the bluesome smoke.
Mother takes her jag,
For the River Limphipe sojourn,
And the water thereon to unfold.
Water stretches her legs
At the hook of Mai Malawi's jag,
It's a curtesy call,
To the Nsima and Ndiwo party,
That night may today find us flat.
From the folded water-legs,
A child is born.
From the long River walk,
Nsima and ndiwo, always twins, are born.
Of every day Christmas,
Like Malaria drags we partake.
Perhaps Nsima,
Is the Mother Malawi we all cherise.
As Óh God Bless our land'we sing,
Early before the Sun becomes too cruel,
From our bodies water to demand.
The quake of our lips, Nsima's everyday devotion.
Oh, let us all of Nsima partake.
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