Broken Pot

The maid with a pot on her head A heavy pot of milk it was She struggled on forward match Her soul full of imaginary joy With the legs trembling helplessly Like a drunken fellow in the streets Tracking home lonely at cockcrow All with her were in danger I saw her reach the doorway A stagger passed death note Milk, the maid went their ways And the maid on her kneels wept You could see tears rolling like river The mouth trembling with rage And the hands stretched sky-wards As the broken pot rested in protest