When I think of you momma
My heart bleeds with sorrow
And when I cry, why Oh great lord?
All I can do is hope.

I know Oh momma, the joy of bearing
The anxiety before labor
And that happy relief when you hold fruit
To watch the plants that you sow, is all you dream of.

I feel dear momma, that hope
The feel of that supple suckle on your breast
For you are confident
That this will be, but the end
Of your relentless suffering.

As you sing that lullaby
“Look after it, for it will look after you”
I can feel the genuine affection
That never seizing true love
That you give without condiment.

You toiled day and night
So that I could have this life
In which I selfishly ignore you
But in my heart, I know without you
This world wouldn’t be mine
You love like no other.

Oh Lord Almighty, when will it be?
When those frail African souls can smile
I can only imagine
The pain of burying the fruit of their womb
The nightmare of watching shattered dreams
The sorrow of a lost hope
The pleasure of babysitting to the death bed.

Oh Lord, won’t you show mercy
Rest them for all they have done
To bring life to this world
But look at all those orphans Lord
Created by the menace of AIDS.

Look at who fends for them
The African mother, mother of slaves
Power milked dry by ages of relentless toil
Hope diminished by tears of sorrow
But love still as virgin as the African sunshine.

All the world is with you momma
Never let your hope dry out
Because you are and deserve
To be the mother of the Mighty Kingdom.