There was a girl, named Rabia
Captured by vicious men
Sold as slave at a very tender age
Imagine, if you can
Work was tough
Hard, early until late, every day
The master was rough
Bad temper was his way
The master came home quite late one night
He could hear from Rabia’s room some noise
He was concerned, went nearer
It was a whispering voice
He was curious to whom his servant
Would still talk to so late at night
He went to the window to see
And could not believe the sight
The girl he treated rough and hard
Was sitting there to pray
Asking blessings for her master
From the Creator of night and day.
Through his heart, a remorseful wave:
Who was he to treat this saintly girl as slave
He set Rabia from slavehood free
A true saint, she went on to be
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