There is a dead monkey hanging,
Hanging in the forest,
By the papyrus reeds,
As farmers weed out the weeds,
Like a woman or man starving in the wind,
When the gods, opened all the glory,
To be glorified,
And sanctified…
There is a dead monkey hanging,
In the forest,
The farmers brought out the charm,
Bewitching the monkeys to disarm,
So the young pumpkin can grow,
And the jackfruits, ffene can ripe…
There is a dead monkey,
Hanging in the forest.