Jehovah, remember what's happened to us.

Weep on your feet, apathetic Africa.

The yoke of oppression's on your neck.

You're shattered, wingless bakbakiri.

Oh the homestead standing alone

with easy access through its gates,

whose people once had plenty,

now a sign of oppression.

Snap these ways that snare you.

For a long time we've said so, criss-crossing the land.

Passers-by will shake their heads

at this home without hospitality.

Celebration began before fighting ceased

but there's bullying right in the churches.

Africa's horn's been cut right back.

The next generation will gaze slack-jawed.

Turn your face to the mountains

and prophesy from them. You too, boy.

Say we offer excuses for everything,

nothing but jokes and excuses.

Foreign ways are a snare to you.

In truth I say so; look for yourself.

Everything's gone that once was of value.

We've sunk deep, I swear by my people.

These ways drove a wedge between us and God:

those are the headings in our discussion.

They scattered us and mowed us down.

They hurled clods at our sons and daughters.

They plundered our homes and our kingship,

Reds and Christians need passes to travel.

The system's still soft, not fully effective:

you can escape if you keep to the shadows.

Our customs wear their dresses,

their trousers conceal deception.

Our girls no longer dance with bare breasts,

they cut fancy capers till their ribs break.

Snap these ways that snare you.

You didn't act, you were forced to act.

Bring out your spear and consult a diviner.

The Lovedale leopard slaughters our young.

When the white appeared, all was normal:

abnormality came with his bible.

Today we don't even know what we scrap over,

lost as if at Vanity Fair.

Peace to you all! Indeed!!