The Afrikaner Has Nowhere To Go, And

Because Life Slips Away, And Because I Need For The Rest Of My Journey A Star That Will Not Play False To Me, A Compass That Will Not Lie.

When I Go Up There, Which Is My Intention, The Big Judge Will Say To Me, Where Are Your Wounds? And If I Say I Haven’t Any, He Will Say, Was There Nothing To Fight For? I Couldn’t Face That Question. (ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful)

All Roads Lead To Johannesburg.

But Perhaps When You Were Too Obedient, And Did Not Do Openly What Others Did, And Were Quiet In Church And Hard-working At School, Then Some Unknown Rebellion Brewed In You, Doing Harm To You, Though How I Do Not Understand.

For Mines Are For Men, Not For Money. And Money Is Not Something To Go Mad About, And Throw Your Hat Into The Air For. Money Is For Food And Clothes And Comfort, And A Visit To The Pictures. Money Is To Make Happy The Lives Of Children. Money Is For Security, And For Dreams, And For Hopes, And For Purposes. Money Is For Buying The Fruits Of The Earth, Of The Land Where You Were Born.