The women carry the water,
Was what her mother taught her,
And when it came to babies,
There were not any maybes.
Life, for her, was backbreaking work,
There were no tasks she could shirk,
Feet with calluses so tough,
She could keep going,
When we'd had enough,
Legs with sinews amazingly strong,
From walking the route for so long,
Her role was perfect grace,
Her husband kept her in that place,
When her husband gambled she prayed he won,
And he always wanted another son,
He blamed her if the child was not male,
At this primary task she did fail,
So over land and up and down hills,
She brought the water, without any spills,
Her father cursed her when he lost at gambling,
He said her whole life, she was shambling.
And so they keep walking, walking
And people who see them should keep talking,
Their footprints cover the world,
These women carrying water,
Something we take for granted,
Their lives are not so enchanted.
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