Classic Poem

Tu-lu, Tu-lu, evil waters running muddy:
an enemy confronts the clan,
a filial son must liquidate this shame.
The filial son is small of body,
but his courage fills the nine provinces
of the land.
He grasps his sword, and slices the enemy
who looked askance at father.
If wrongs to father were not avenged,
with what face could he visit father's grave?
Let him wash out the enemy's skull
and make of it a drinking cup!
Let him slice up the enemy's flesh
and make of it a meal!
Then and only then will he
be able to hold his head up high.