Namvulu Vumu

Namvulu Vumu

From his dry hill on highest land,
a man call rain to arid sand.
He call for water, call for life
to barren field and barren wife.
He pray the grass be thick and tall,
he pray his cattle fat for all;
he shake his rattle, ring his bell;
he cast his last unearthly spell.
And if the sun still burn above,
he beg his woman for her love.
He beg for time, he beg for life;
he beg away the waiting knife.
She come to him, she dark and long,
with charmed eye, with ghastly song.

Namvulu Vumu live in fear;
he watch the sky, he pray to hear
a sudden thunder, blacking sky;
a storm without a charmed eye.
He pray for water, call the cloud
from heaven's dry unholy shroud.
He shake his rattle, blow his horn;
he pray the calf be healthy born.
He see the harvest dry and dead;
he see his barren narrow bed.
He see his woman cold and hard;
she hold a sharp and bloody shard.
She come to him, she dark and long,
with fatal knife, with ghastly song.