Not a waste land but the nama karoo
leads the villagers for there culture
mostly know for umqusho, Lord
how those beans make my tummy run

At times I sip on the traditional beer
so crazy types ate it wild with the beans
I cannot think of your admiration less,
stolen pride from character's unit

The mountains sing and praise worship
our men hood reviled through out the whole world and pottage of a Hancock county, with blood all over my wary mouth

Pots of steel ,toe boots I wander why your phone didn't work. Because of the signals up there just can't reach the royal house and the villagers ask when will our -

children come back, inn time when the sun rises we shall throw our speers towards the sun, as our family's has given us Joyce,
we ran down hill in our bikinis

As from then I was made a men, my wife Loughs since it's what she might ware
as her heart beat raised, my feet had thons
crowley and bitter make my feet.