When will there be peace?
If some guilty elements
Point fingers of strange accusation
At my innocent fellow?
I'll never blame the silent waters
If they burst into noisy protest
And clash with adamant rocks
That never allow their free flow,
I feel bothered and bitter
Seeing me and my kiths and kins
Treated like some subhuman species
In the land of our Noble birth.
I feel sick in my bossom
When I see the whole crowd
Looking morose like mourners without a modicum of sense of humour
While a party of second-hand niggers
Spend hours in merriment
All to our righteous indignation.
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