The smell of a husband

Opiyo is the man I will marry,
He's the one whose child I'll carry.
Even if he drills stones at the quarry
And the blisters in his palms are scary,
Opiyo is the man I'll marry!
His arm pits have the smell of a husband.

If I take Opiyo to our home
And they chase him back to where he's from,
I will pack my classy bags and elope,
Like the Mexican I saw in a soap.

Opiyo is the man my soul wants....
Even if he lives in a shunty hut,
And wears torn shorts and dirty shirts,
I love him from the bottom of my heart!
And I'll poison the rat that ate his hat.

If I ever marry Opiyo
And I find another woman with him,
I will reap off her nipples with my blunt teeth
Then bury them in her nose until she stops to breathe!
She will never inhale the smell of my husband ever again 

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