INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918 545
I ain't transported with delight. I know it's only just an' right,
But yet it somehow sickens me, For I 'ave learned at Waterval The meanin' of captivity.
Be'ind the pegged barb-wire strands,
Beneath the tall electric light, We used to walk in bare-'ead bands, Explainin' 'ow we lost our fight; An' that is what they'll do to-night
Upon the steamer out at sea, If I 'ave learned at Waterval The meanin' of captivity.
They'll never know the shame that brands Black shame no livin' down makes white The mockin' from the sentry-stands, The women's laugh, the gaoler's spite. We are too bloomin'-much polite,
But that is 'ow I'd 'ave us be . . . Since I 'ave learned at Waterval The meanin' of captivity.
They'll get those draggin' days all right,
Spent as a foreigner commands, An' 'errors of the locked-up night,
With 'Ell's own thinkin' on their 'ands. I'd give the gold o' twenty Rands (If it was mine) to set 'em free For I 'ave learned at Waterval
The meanin' of captivity!