Burying Africa

Of desert sands And arid lands Of highest mountains Proudly stands Of open plains Of fertile soil Where no man has touched His hand to spoil Of forests vast And verdant gloss Of river snakes And silver dross Africa stands huge and humble In poverty it seems to drunkenly stumble Of violence powerfully fed Its bloody rivers washes red Washing away a future splendid As riches are pillaged Whilst ruffians spend it Oh Africa, continent of my heart How widows howl as crowds depart Sinking boxes into the soil At the end of a futile toil