The funeral drums

The funeral drums had long passed
And our memories still sounded echoes in air
The land has been bright quiet and fair
It has enjoyed calm without a cry
and they wish it were forever
never to return home again

From afar held his stick higher the drum beater
His drum close to the ground preparing to sound
Beating its skin it’s true
Another death but whom
The last time it was outside my neighbourhood
Today inside my house yet whom
My mother followed my dad into the grave but my wife
I could hear, her voice hollowed and worn out
She weeps like never before

Sh..!! Sh..!! The name she screams
Like... Baboni her son, my son
Ah..! Oh no! Not my son!
It cannot be true
Strong he was when I left
Thirty years ago I left,
Then a baby my son,
now a pity my son
not to see you but your corpse