Balancing a basket on her head, she goes to market

A hard working field hand, she sells her goods cheaper than the supermarket

She boasts to prospective buyers that her stuff got more flavor, "they're naturaler"

She calls for customers amidst many others like herself

They all have great responsibilities, major bills and fatherless families



Now the going's slow, market women converse with each other

Catch up on lives and opportunities for mutual assistance

The talk interrupted by a potential buyer, querying about prices,

not really interested in costs, but the bargain

And market woman replies "A measure of wheat for a penny, 

and three measures of barley for a penny, and see

thou hurt not the oil and the wine"

But the buyer walks off without buying and market woman keeps on chatting



Evening comes by, market woman sold a little

In order to break even, luxuries such as breakfast and lunch could not cross her mind

It's time to pack up, put the load on her head, on top of the load already there

Time to make the journey home, up the hill through the dirt patch

And when she reaches the one-room wooden frame,

four half-naked children run out to greet her with their day tales and complaints

So market woman listens to them as she prepares a meal of her goods

And she puts her priorities in order, thinking tomorrow, 

she's got to work the land for more foodstuffs

So tomorrow, she has to be farmwoman

And that's another poem about the daily life of my mom,

The strongwoman