There’s a place my heart belongs,
Land of sights and smells and songs,
Poor man’s rights and rich man’s wrongs
Called South Africa

Orange skies and turquoise sea
Rolling hills of greenery
Vast majestic scenery
Glowing Africa

Wealthy whitewashed bungalows
Olive trees in perfect rows
Vineyards where the nectar flows
Rich South Africa

There’s another kind of sea
Spread as far as eyes can see
Lives of pain and poverty
In  South Africa

Townships where the poor  reside
Hovels squashed in side by side
Scenes which  mark the vast divide
Here in Africa

Forty homes, one lavatory
Rotting food, unsanitary
This is not how life should be
But it’s Africa

Beds sleep three or four or more
Others  have to use the floor
This is truly being poor
Real South Africa

Roofs of corrugated  tin
Cardboard walls or wood worn thin
When it pours the rain seeps in
This is Africa

In the searing heat of day
If inside you bake like clay
Try to swat the flies away
Hot South Africa

When it’s cold  inside you freeze
But at least it kills the fleas
Someone help these people please
Cries South Africa

Yet inside this poverty
Lies a real community
This is one big family
Proud South Africa