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
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