I have made a commotion, singing and dancing without knowing how, feeling no shame or fear, only the worry of my belly. Sit down, you are tired; let me rub your feet, O Generous One, and let the breeze cool your body. Forgive my delay, for a mother should hold no anger toward her child. Says Tuka, we children will come to your company and raise a joyful uproar, all the little cowherds gathered together.