Hey everyone! Your friend, Sara here.
In Mathura, you were born,
And from your family tree, you were torn.
Above your father’s head as an umbrella, was a snake,
But with fear, your father did not shake.
Giving sanctuary to you was not a piece of cake,
Your foster parents love was not fake.
They took good care of you,
You were very naughty and also your crew.
You were always craving for butter,
If you were asked about it, you would stutter.
You used to play a flute,
You would make others knock their socks off their boot.
You used to sing and dance,
I think you had a cool stance.
Gopikas your devotees were,
Their devotion was not sub – par.
Wow! Kaana, is it true?
That the Govardhan Giri was lifted by you?
To Mathura you took a chariot not a car,
You killed Kansa, so you get a star.
Happy birthday Kaana,
You are still liked by the people and the fauna.