Some Do This While Others Do That

She works bent low in the rain,

We don’t notice her great pain.

Into the hall we somberly file,

She keeps working all the while.

As we enter, we bend and bow,

She goes on slogging somehow.

Our assigned places we now take,

She lifts up and wields a big rake.

On our cushions we comfortably sit,

She now descends into a deep pit.

Our lengthy vows we loudly recite,

She shovels mud with all her might.

We then gently drift into our peace,

She labours on for just a few rupees.

We sit still, our minds wildly roam,

She frets about her folks back home.

Our eyes we close, our lips we seal,

She thinks of her family’s next meal.

In great zest holy songs we then sing,

She muses on the point of everything.

Pious ejaculations escape from our lips,

In the slushy pit she suddenly slips.

In deep silence we once again sit,

Her head by a boulder is badly hit.

Bliss we think at last we have found,

She falls with a cry flat on the ground.

Our final prayers we’ve now just said,

She's meanwhile joined the ranks of the dead.