A PLEA WITH THE ANCESTORS

Nyaaba ooo! Nyaaba!
Hear me as I call
Hear me, hear the
plea of thy sons before
thy knee.
For the rains have started,
but our harvest, you know;
has never been mild
And it's still long due, yet
our fears so long over the
years is due again.

We employ thee
We employ thee to hear us :
Let the coming of the rains
bring Peace
Let the thundering spare our
walls
Let the storms bring us with
naught
And let the call for the sow 
bring bounty.

Nyaaba ooo!
Take... Take... Take...
And let your anger be sated.
Let our journey be fair as we
leave your bosom.
Once again hear our plea and
remember, now the cock crows
only when it's crop is full.