In plain words
It will be well advertised,” he said. I wrote a song for it.
Here it is, here it is, Bālabhāskara! Children! Come, children! For a bloated belly, for swollen legs, from aches in the hands and from ills, from careless feeding, from indigestion and loose bowels, for all of them this does good, sirs! Children! Come, children!
He asked for still more, so I wrote that too.
If you ask where it is, brother, there, over there: at Kotte Subbanna's shop alone you will find it, brother, Paṇḍit Śrī Gopālacārya's holy tonic, brother!
When I wrote out this song and gave it to him, he forgot himself and came running home in joy. He had bobbaṭlu made at home and brought them for Me. Through this publicity, Bālabhāskara sold a great many lakhs' worth. Learning all this, he had two shirts and two pairs of shorts stitched and came. “Kotte Subbanna! Vaḍḍikāsulavāḍu is in Tirupati, but I am no Vaḍḍikāsulavāḍu,” I said. “Are you giving Me these as interest for My writing? I will not accept them,” I said. That way I turned them back. He wept a great deal; he was deeply hurt. “I will not take them home,” he said. Give them to the beggars outside; I am glad of it. In this way, from that day it has been only giving, never taking. My hand has never gone like this. But for one thing alone, My hand does go like that.