Classic Poem

Mohammed Jan, the warrior, is our hero—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

He commands our soldiers on the field of battle—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Daud Shah is a bastard—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Vali Mohammed Khan is a demon—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Yakub Khan is a loyal gentleman—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Musa Khan is the Amir of the Afghans—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Abderrahman Khan is the child of the Tsar—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Asmatullah Khan is at Kashman—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Mohammed Shareef Khan is in prison—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

His son is a vile stench in our nostrils—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Kabul has become Hindu—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Our women are widowed—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

But there is yet a great battle to be fought—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

The decision will rest with Iran—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

All the plains are blood-red with flowers—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

The roses are red with the martyrs' blood—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

On all sides fly double rupees—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Herat belongs to Teheran—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.

Ayoob Khan is at his wits' end—
Come, little son, let us eat grapes.