At the village pond

“You cannot even swim a bit?”
“Or, make a fire for roasting corn?”
“Or, climb these trees to pluck the fruit?”
“Or, lead the cattle by the horn?”

The men are not impressed at all.
“You know, you’re like a poultry hen,
Who clucks all day and pecks all day
And spends her life inside her pen.”

“No wonder you spend all your cash
On branded clothes and stylish specs.
You have to show your money power
To get a girl to give you sex.”

They laugh, and as I laugh with them,
They find it strange and laugh some more.
“You have to man up, City Boy,
Or have to buy yourself a whore.”

“He’ll have to do it standing up.
He cannot push-up even once.”
“How can he when he has to lift
Those juicy juicy hot-cross buns?”

“You’re more a woman, aren’t you, Boy?”
“I saw you at the temple fair.”
“Yeah, dawdling with the womenfolk.”
“And shopping for some womenswear.”

“And when they tried on earrings, yeah?”
“He flattered them with ‘Naiice!’ and ‘Wow!’”
“And giggled with them all day long.”
So that is why they’re jealous now.

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