Ssebo (Sir) Poem by Katusiime Jeresi

I may be your plunder
A thing to hide
A thing to possess
A thing to protect
A thing to fight for when
Its time for fists to greet
Or just a baby carrier
fecund and full of health
somethings I wash
somethings I clean
somethings I cook
as you rest with a book
my primary call
your pleasure ssebo.

I am sure God
is mightily pleased
when he sees lounge and
ask
for tea from you rib,
eight months
huge with child.