Flying a kite on the halcyon sky,
Festival beckoning, yet why are you late?
Frolicking mood pervades, no wonder why,
Finicky you’re, maybe about your mate.
Loving the show, the fervour and joy,
Leave the chores, and promptly come to play,
Like your boisterous girl and boy,
Last time, I’m pleading you to slay.
Onerous daily humdrum spares me not,
Omitting which makes my life null,
O’er the din, and their demiurgic knot,
Obey I yearn to, to your welcome lull.
Nonetheless I’ll go and fly the kite,
Nailing their ego, I’ll corral my spunk,
Nettling their poise, I’ll defeat their spite,
Native culture will not let me be a flunk.
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