Bring her home son
The lady who has won the heart of Onyango, my son
Bring her home son
Let not the rumour of her beauty clog my aged ears
Bring her home son
Let me set my eyes on her while I still live
Bring her home son
The mother to my grandchildren
The daughter to my in-laws
Let me spend the last of my wealth for her dowry
Let her presence in my home, remind me of Raila the unbeaten bull
Let the joy she bring to this home, remind me of Nyong'o ebullient ram
Let the first of her son in my home, remind me of Oneko the potent he-goat
Bring her home son
For old is gold
Sold to the bold
Those who dare the cold
To grasp and hold
Never in pain, to let go their purchase
Nor in fear, to let go their chase
Onyango my son, bring her home in this time
When our milk gourds are drying on the fence
Not when our granaries are full of millet
Not when our farms are green with maize
Not when our ranch break from bull fights
Not when the waters of our river vomit fish
Not when your mother is strong to weed her kitchen farm
Not when am strong enough to take the cows to the plains
Not when your younger brother is old enough to soak himself
Bring her home son
This girl who has won your heart.
Let me see if she be hurt
When this grass-roof be still your hut
And this reed still be your mat
And this slenderness still be your fat
And these rags still be your smart
For a woman is a treasure
Not to a man should bring pressure
But in her smile the pleasure
Of her hands brings be out of measure
Of her mouth says be bounty of peace
And of her plans be good her man to please
My son, men have loved women before
The light in their eyes and the snares of their voices
The size of their legs and the shape of their behind
The softness of their palms and the beauty of their faces
The taste in their names and the colour of their clothes
But son, bring not home a beautiful face
No, not a sweet voice nor a bright eye
No, not a soft palm nor a hilly behind
No, not a big name nor a beautiful dress
Bring her home a helper, from her efforts find anchorage
Bring her home a mentor, from her roots find courage
For son, life is one
Not again this life below sun
Shall you live again
And of death knows none
So look, invite not in your house, Pain.
For old is gold
Sold to the bold
Those who dare the cold
To grasp and hold
Never in pain, to let go their purchase
Nor in fear, to let go their chase
Onyango my son, bring her home in this time
When our milk gourds are drying on the fence
Not when our granaries are full of millet
Not when our farms are green with maize
Not when our ranch break from bull fights
Not when the waters of our river vomit fish
Not when your mother is strong to weed her kitchen farm
Not when am strong enough to take the cows to the plains
Not when your younger brother is old enough to soak himself
Bring her home son
This girl who has won your heart.
Let me see if she be hurt
When this grass-roof be still your hut
And this reed still be your mat
And this slenderness still be your fat
And these rags still be your smart
For a woman is a treasure
Not to a man should bring pressure
But in her smile the pleasure
Of her hands brings be out of measure
Of her mouth says be bounty of peace
And of her plans be good her man to please
My son, men have loved women before
The light in their eyes and the snares of their voices
The size of their legs and the shape of their behind
The softness of their palms and the beauty of their faces
The taste in their names and the colour of their clothes
But son, bring not home a beautiful face
No, not a sweet voice nor a bright eye
No, not a soft palm nor a hilly behind
No, not a big name nor a beautiful dress
Bring her home a helper, from her efforts find anchorage
Bring her home a mentor, from her roots find courage
For son, life is one
Not again this life below sun
Shall you live again
And of death knows none
So look, invite not in your house, Pain.
