"The Story of Manorah's Son's Son

"The Story of Manorah's Son's Son!"

Manor woman, famous manorah
My mom is Where are mine

The mother of eight children!
To all children
But lovingly
Because of the plate plate
Always been me
I am his beloved.

This woman
Whenever I cut wheat on the lye
Whenever the wheat crop shifts
Together with your children
Choosing a fallen stack of wheat.

When
If the mango crop reached the toys,
This lady
Gree mango beans were also selected in the field.

Never had a cow
Never buffalo anyone
If you put it on
Sometimes I would hang out with relatives.

Ever
Put on grass for livestock
I would have picked up big carts
Ever in the neighborhood
In elementary school
During the fifth grade board exams
Selling dumplings for a few days ...

Sometimes for months of hard work
If you sell them
Sometimes at the wedding of your relatives
By becoming Kamalanandi
What worked and got paid?

And all this
She did that
She was a brave woman.
She was an independent wife.
She was a passionate mother.
She knew to fight.

They are a case
From poverty
Didn't want to lose!

She is her husband
And for your children
For many years
Putting your eyes in the eyes of poverty
He was constantly fighting alone

and then
This image of Wafa
Allahu Uzzal declared the winner.

Same thing
Who used to pick wheat straws
Who used to pick mango beans
Who used to sell Oplay
Today
Same thing
Of Sargodha Division
The most trusted institution
Managing Director is sitting, Mashaullah.

Come on.
Of your own mother
Of your own pleasures
Be beautiful tomorrow