Reverberating across the hills
It's slow, dull, deep, big boom echoing
The low deep sound of a single bass drum
Accompanied by the rhythm of two small drums
And the slow melancony chant
Reaching as far as the sound of the bass drum

The cry of a people in a far away land
Their ancestors uprooted from the land of their birth
Taken from the land of their forefathers
Enslaved
To bringing profit to a few
And make rich other countries

The forefathers born free in their homeland
Now their descendants given freedom in a foreign land
Without the means of excercising that freedom
No provision made to return to the land of the forefathers
Stay and occupy where you are
The original people of the land conquered, exterminated

The chant seeping into the conciousness
Tugging at the strings of the heart
Shivering even as goose bump rises
Even as eerie shadows dance in the light of torches
Desiring to answer the call
To return to the homeland - to Mother Africa