Mayday! Mayday!
Lament Great Child of Africa.
Let none deceive ye, even in flippant jest
That ye need not lament.
Lament aloud, great child of Africa
That thy ancestors hearing thy plea,
Bestow upon thee blessings abundant
To soothe your brow and calm thy soul.
Lament not, thy greatness past
But thy fallen grace and stagnant present.
Lament more, great land as thy horizons dim
And only an illusion of the future is seen.
Deceive thyself not, as ye hopelessly retrogress
And ye lurch against the billowing wind of prosperity
While others into the blossom of splendor it blows.
Comfort take not, as ye slumber deep
The tide of good fortune ignoring thee …
Yet carrying others swiftly into futures grand
Their endeavour superlative, surpassing thine.
Alas time and tide await no one ;
Nor tarry they in vain for a tardy nation.
Do hasten child of great ancestry
Thy rightful place in the present seek to reclaim.
Even the babe born as the sun rises,
The sage hope is wiser as the sun sets.
Yet this great child of noble heritage
Fallen head first into despair deep
Finds to stand erect, arduous indeed.
In a world awaiting not even the agile
Nor keeping a vain pause for those trailing,
Thy streets are not paved with stone
Much less other gems … surely not gold.
Heed now the echoing distress call.
Perpertuate not the blemishes in thy history
And remove also the tarnish in thy armour.
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