O He, that Sis-Nancy, he all round everywhere. Got the best stories because he see everything.
You don’t see him, neither, sitting high up on the strings he build between the tree branches or the rafters of your hut.
Maybe catch him a fly. Maybe catch him a story, your own story.
You tell a story all the time, but you don’t know it.
Sis-Nancy, he see you telling it, catch him that story, wrap it up and keep it with all the others.
Maybe one day he bring it out, fit it in with the rest, but maybe not.