My great-grandfather had a bamboo hut,
A mansion it definitely was not.
Golden-hued light bamboo, its walls were made;
Neatly thatched cogon grass, its roof gave shade.
Its floors a-gleam from vigorous brushing,
Fine coconut husks were for polishing.
It snuggled down the foot of a small hill,
Close by a dense growth... I remember still,
Every uncle and male cousin hid there;
No enemy patrol would ever dare
Come to hunt us at that enchanted place.
Escape with me now, we will leave no trace...
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