O Shaka
O Shaka, my father, my father, fallen
To perfidy of deception
My amputated glory
On the golden glow of autumn
My terminus and my rejection
O Shaka, great Zulu, warrior, chief
Momentous man of destiny
That rode her horse unsaddled
Why did you trust that half hearted brother
After they gospelled him
The missionaries in false feathers
Promised thrity pieces of unpaid silver
And never paid again
Neither forty acres or the mule
I cannot measure you by mass of their myth and history
So that I do today
Have nothing to show my children but a tale
Your daughter, my father's grandmother
Like a crumpled paper of genealogy avails
Little for the glory of a throne
And the private wonder
Who throw the dice for man's fate
Who before my face
Closed the undiscovered gate?
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