Oh my father and his fathers before him, why have I been plagued in this life? I have been true to the requirements of manliness, always respecting the woman in all entirety, never once bringing her cause for sorrow. But why? Why have I found only the undeserving and unfaithful? With my tired back have I broken the might of the hard soil; with my decorated hoe and cutlass have broken through shrubs and bushes, have planted good seeds upon virgin lands, just to see that my woman is not hungry and in want. I remember oh ancestors; the gods bore me witness then, when I went into her father's house, I came with full gallons of wine and a fat goat. Did I not pay in full? Now she has played the part of the people from beyond the seas. She has torn her native smock, wrought by the village's loom; and has clad herself with linen from outer space. She now flaunts her near nakedness about. My honor brought to shame! Father I sent her home, only for her to cleave unto the village drunkards, further soiling my good name! My heart longs for her despite her immodesty and infidelity. Will I be unmanned if I go after her? Is it in the ways of modern men? Must I follow the path she has chosen? My bed is cold even during the hottest seasons, my balls boil and the ancient milk of fertility dries up! Alas, none may survive me! The gods permit me to go and get a new woman, but how can this new venture be successful when the last one was amiss. The earth become pale and the earth deity dies. The frail thread of manliness burn as flax by the wrath of a woman's mischief. My neighbor's daughter have come of age, her bosom ever enticing as the soothing palm nuts, and coconuts relished with the gods' own broth. Am I insatiate? Do my loins cloud reason? Ah father, the harmattan approaches, a man may die of cold. My companion is far away in the arms of heathens, those who never climbed the palm trees, but boast of lofty deeds. Should I run after the unruly, swallow my pride, and live, or must I raise my cock and perish with the lonely?