The men who greeted our forefathers,
And plundered the treasures of the black soil are here again.
Those men who bound the men of our land
In fetters to till the strange lands,
And took our maidens to warm their beds have come back.

After leaving us in the lurch,
They have returned, not with handcuffs,
But with mindcuffs and the bonds of usury
To rule over the sons of the land.
We have now become marionettes in the hands of the puppeteer.

Our land, which overflowed with milk and honey,
Is now parched and near death.
There is no more Gold
Nor Ivory at the Coast.
When will the free slaves be free?