OOCSorry to put you in the position of making up a song off the top of your head! For the record, though, I thought your song was excellent. This post can be the last of the singing. I just thought it'd be appropriate, and it's fun to see Hirem's lighter side.When Hirem first started to sing, Nahali and the boys leaned in to listen intently, always interested in learning new songs that no one else from their Tent would know. Even a new nursery rhyme could be sung to younger siblings, taught to new mothers, and even adapted with different beats or melodies to create fresh variations. The fact that Hirem was far from an awe-inspiring singer only made the song feel more real and earthy to them. Had he been a master musician, Nahali would've felt ashamed to repeat his song with her inferior voice, but Hirem's cheerfully inexpert rendition made her comfortable with not only appreciating his song but also learning it.
As Nahali and the boys heard more of the words, though, grins and smirks appeared on their faces. At first, Hirem was too absorbed in singing to notice. When he finished, though, he couldn't help but see how all three of his fellow shepherds looked like they were on the verge of bursting into laughter.
"What is it?" he asked, surprised by their unexpected reaction. "Was my singing that amusing?"
His flustered, perplexed expression finally pushed the younger shepherds over the edge, and Nahali and the boys started laughing. They weren't meaning to be hurtful, but they couldn't help it. Nahali kept shaking her head and chuckling, and the boys were letting out the squeaky snorts of typical adolescent boys. Hirem certainly had a right to wonder what was so funny.
Finally, Yacob got a hold of himself. "No, no, we weren't really laughing at you. It's just that your song reminded us… Well, we were all remembering how this older girl…she married into our Tent…she got it into her head one day to set up a sort of school for us when we were kids. We'd help with chores in the day and go to her tent for lessons in the evening ,that sort of thing."
"She was from Yahebah," Lahai added, by way of explanation. "Probably thought we were all a bunch of ignorant rascals compared to the kids going to the Seat of the Sons. She kept boasting about how much she'd learned there when she was little and how much she could teach us and everything."
"Anyway," Yacob continued, "she got us all together and started our lessons, all official-like. She was so serious, even threatened to spank us if we didn't attend properly. But then…then…" He started laughing again, so Nahali picked up the thread of the story.
"Well, her very first lesson was about the sons of Biyram," she went on. "And guess what? For all her boasting, she couldn't even keep their names and attributes straight! It was such a ridiculous sight. One of the seven-year-olds finally spoke up and told her who was who, and she turned so red I thought there was no blood left in the rest of her body. After that, that girl never wanted to teach us again."
"Your mother should've taught that girl," Lahai told Hirem with mock solemnity. "She could've used your nursery rhyme for sure."
Yacob nodded in agreement, having recovered from his last fit of laughing. "That was a nice song, though. We''ll remember it and sing it in our Tent. But in the meantime, we should return the favor, shouldn't we, little brother? There's a great song that Nahali's own Uncle Labran made up that everyone should know. Let's teach it to him, Lahai."
Oh Yahal, please, not that song again, Nahali thought desperately. But her prayer went unheeded. In a voice full of pride and swagger, Yacob burst into the opening lines:
"Ohhh, the girls of Ahnatep
Have lips of ruby and skins of gold
The Chaktawe girls are copper
But their kisses are hot and bold
These desert beauties will love you
For all the water they can hold
Still, I prefer Benshira girls
Their dancing is a sight to behold
And when the night is dark and chill,
Their loving keeps away the cold!"
As the boys swung into the chorus together, Nahali clapped her hands over her ears and marched away toward the front of the flock. Uncle Labran had made up the song after drinking far too much wine, and all the men in the Tent had liked it so much that they kept singing it for years afterward.
I hope we get to the watering hole quickly, she thought, her face contorted into a grumpy frown.
And I hope they don't keep singing that song all the way back home.