Song of an ancient food keeper in Yamba( Kathmandu)

Thump, thump, thump, thump, comes in an army of metalworkers For Yamba pays them in heavy silver, to cast the town a- glitter The post-harvest festival incoming, all eager like a bride for wedding! Clink clink I hear the coins I will earn in my tavern! Black gram will I roast in salt, and a gruel of rice in malt, they shall dine the crunchy beans and in the thirst, drink the kanji n wine and very soon they shall ask for solid sustenance,
for that I shall bring, pieces of buffalo fried in oil, sprinkled with greens and flattened roasted rice to soak the booze in
In the end of the meal they shall want a sweet thing and I shall serve them rice cooked in buff mi k, a delicious pudding! They will be overjoyed, and dance they will, and loudly will they sing And I will send out the boy to admonish, don't disturb the cadres of Brahmin!
The mountain peaks, white and blue
They arise in the morning in the valley before the Sun is due The men, they are out and about in town
To the palaces and the businesses, ready for the metals with their magic imbued The farmers get up out with the sun, and so do the nights oil men Cooks and the captains begin their day early on
Soon after come out the boys and girls learning lessons In writing and reading or the matters of their filial trade The palace gets the gates opened, the court is in session. Traders come in, on their donkeys and ponies, and packs of foreign riches Finally the potters are out, and then the tailors working on their stitches. To the market I go, for the grains and the greens
to cook, so the day may reveal itself again!