Ancestors captured this kingdom,
where no man dare to come,
Ruled it by spinning beautiful huts,
which I never ceased the custom.
Idly we ruled this kingdom,
As we got meal to fill our guts,
So many flees lost their souls here,
And I continued my spinning too.
But this dawn saw my webs falling
with the broomstick of the mighty lady,
and now I rest in soil as an unkind king.
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