When women carries their pan
In joy of the welcoming boat,
And the songs from shore calling a market,
The little murmurings of our folks
And the meeting faith of their little penny,
Till the little taken home fed a family,
And songs traded to welcome canoes to the shores,
On a thought our nets are filled with dreams,
Dreams and melodies from the drums
Around a set log-fire,
Stretching our joy over night down Elmina
in the full brim of the calabash,
Till the morning journey on the gulf is set,
And men gather their toils over the shores,
To the incantation melodies awaiting arrival.
@jcsonjenuis
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