Village In The Valley Poem by George Samuel

Toast in the valley sweet wine
Wind breeze does blow
Neighbors at sea swim
Gently but surely comes the overflow
Wine makes merry massacre
Light shady twelve cups full
In them are comrade drown in ten liter
Days of melody the language of the soul
Daily dancing and drums
The sound of men love and hate
And jungle where friends have a home
The horse men dangling down the hill
With their cup full and they are ill
And narrow desolate roads to school
Broken three legs wooden stool
Coming home to the village in the valley