And a nail pressed at my bottom
To make sure I am sufficiently tight
To fight away dust and keep away dirt
From the places people live in
But no respect or honor I am shown
In the best possible way when my job is done
I am put to stand in a corner of a room
Or on the floor left to roll down
I do not know too much about west
But in east I get a nasty superstitious job to do
To beat people to dispel evil spirit
By which they are supposedly possessed with
But I feel the worth of my birth when I am used
As an effective weapon by women
To broom man up when their modesty is outraged
Or an honest man holds me up when society is dying with corruption.