The silent song of sorrows played with ease,
As her tribal dress swayed along the breeze
Her feet dug deep into the earth with every stomp
In her native tongue she spoke a vicious taunt,
She danced around the fire as she chanted
Warding of Demons and Spirits lost in enchantment
The paint that covered her visage was fierce,
Scaring away all the little demons in fear
The smoke rose to cleanse the air of sorrow,
To make for better luck with the crops tomorrow.