Folklore of the Santal Parganas

by Cecil Henry Bompas

But still the lota in my hand

Will not sink below the surface.”

Then the water rose to her waist and the pot would not fill, and she sang:—

“The water has risen, brother,

And wetted my waist, brother,

But still the lota in my hand

Will not sink below the surface.”

Then the water reached her neck and the pot would not fill; and she sang:—

The water has risen, brother,