A TIME
A time of tribulation great,
Is coming to this world;
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Alone upon a hilltop,
Stood a piper boldly grand,
A soldier far away from home;
Scotland his homeland.
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Do you feel the pain of nails, thrust through your tender hands,
Do you feel those evil thorns, a crown twisted in bands,
The excruciating agony, of iron pierced through your feet,
The shame of being spat upon, on a Roman pebbled street,
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Freedom fighter or terrorist? Depends whose side you’re on,
Africa’s ‘freedom fighters’… proud pirates everyone,
No freedom was ever gained for Black folk’s kith or kin,
Their fight was not for liberty, but to loot now from within.
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Sixty four wagons in laager; the night mist cold and bland,
These Boers were merely farmers, going north in search of land.
Surrounded now by Zulus, their presence was foreboding,
Twenty thousand warriors; drumming, shouting, goading.
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Should the young children
Suffer for our sin,
Does it not grip your trembling
Heart within,
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Can you recall where you were, September nine/eleven?
When all hell did break loose; from Kamikaze heaven,
In disbelief, you watched aghast… another plane, another blast.
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Friendship
By Alf Hutchison
To whom do you turn when sad and forlorn?
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‘Father please take this cup from me’,
Echoed His cry from Gethsemane,
He prayed aloud and He did fret
Droplets of blood ran down as sweat,
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Come with me, hold tight my hand,
Whilst I show you my beloved land,
Africa’s blood washes through my veins,
From Bushveld glades to savanna plains.
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