It makes me feel sad to hear a poor woman praying to a man.  This El Hakim was a man, and a bad man too, who lived many hundred years ago, and now the Druzes regard him as their God.  But what difference is there between worshipping Hakim as the Druzes do, and worshipping Mary and Joseph as the Greeks and Maronites do.  Laia says the Maronites down in the lower part of this village sing the following song: 

    Hillu, Hillu, Hallelujah! 
    Come my wild gazelles! 
    He who into trouble falls
    On the Virgin Mother calls;
    To Damascus she’s departing,
    All the mountain monks are starting. 
    Come my priest and come my deacon,
    Bring the censer and the beacon,
    We will celebrate the Mass,
    In the Church of Mar Elias;
    Mar Elias, my neighbor dear,
    You must be deaf if you did not hear.

Sit Leila sings: 

    I love you my boy, and this is the proof,
    I wish that you had all the wealth of the “Shoof,”
    Hundreds of costly silken bales,
    Hundreds of ships with lofty sails. 
    Hundreds of towns to obey your word,
    And thousands of thousands to call you lord!

Katrina is ready to sing again: 

    I will sing to you,
    God will bring to you,
    All you need, my dear: 
    He’s here and there,
    He is everywhere,
    And to you He’s ever near.

People say that every baby that is born into the world is thought by its mother to be better than any other ever born.  The Arab women think so too, and this is the way they sing it: 

    One like you was never born,
    One like you was never brought;
    All the Arabs might grow old,
    Fighting ne’er so brave and bold,
    Yet with all their battles fought
    One like you they never caught.

Im Faris asks if we would not like to hear some of the rhymes the Arab women sing when playing with their children.  Here are some of them.  The first one you will think is like what you have already seen in “Mother Goose.”

    Blacksmith, blacksmith, shoe the mare,
    Shoe the colt with greatest care;
    Hold the shoe and drive the nail,
    Else your labor all will fail;
    Shoe a donkey for Seleem,
    And a colt for Ibraheem.

Sugar cane grows luxuriantly in Syria, and it was first taken from Tripoli, Syria, to Spain, and thence to the West Indies and America.  But all they do with it now in Syria, is to suck it.  It is cut up in pieces and sold to the people, old and young, who peel it and suck it.  So the Arab women sing to their children: 

    Pluck it and suck it, the green sugar cane,
    Whatever is sweet is costly and vain;
    He’ll cut you a joint as long as a span,
    And charge two piastres.  Now buy if you can!

Wered says she will sing us two or three which they use in teaching the little Arab babies to “pat” their hands: