Jehovah, replenish our days on earth,

as you did in the time of our fathers.

Did you forsake us forever,

Elephant grazing the plains of Canaan?

Jehovah, replenish our days on earth,

as you did in the time of our fathers,

Beater of Sandile's drum,

Langalibalele's black cow.

Africa's paths are quick to give way,

the next generation will gaze slack-jawed,

passers-by will shake their heads

at this home without hospitality.

Its enemies plundered the pots,

the knives and sacred vessels,

all the gourds and little trowels

passed down through generations.

They clapped shackles on you, Africa,

hurled you down with cannon and musket:

today, we've lost ourselves,

our leaders all sit mum.

You've also been patched, who always saw it.

Did Ntsikana not tell you as well?

You've been robbed of your drink along with your kingship,

both red and convert must carry a pass.

Ethiopia should get involved,

find support in the Scriptures,

seek the truth from those above,

who died here and in the water.

You've been patched, Garden of Africa.

I saw a baboon with dirty teeth.

Today you're ploughed up by steam locomotives:

we don't plough while we bellow “Wailings.”

Mercy, plains of our country,

induce birth pangs in our people.

While our people die, strangers cart off our country.

Wake up! Death was put to sleep, you said!

Mercy, hills of our country,

mercy, streams of our country,

carry us up the mountain slope

like flocks driven out in the frost.

Mercy!!