Edgar Thurston,
Castes and Tribes of Southern India
(1909)
“ What blame can rest upon us. Who save our land from dearth? Famine stares us in the face. Parched are our fields, and dry, Death looks in at ev'ry door, For food our young ones cry. Thadi Pennoo veils her face. Propitiate me, she cries, Give to me of flesh and blood, A willing sacrifice. That where'er its blood is shed, On land, or field, or hill, There the gen'rous grain may spring. ”

