It started with the beat of a drum
Voices taking it up with a hum
Chanting and dancing,
with a bit of great singing.
It was just a song, with a bit of humour
A word that formed a rumour
It was once said that my motherland would come
I did not believe, until it was a home.
I grew up in it along with my friends.
We lived the African style, with African trends.
Africa, my motherland.
I am not ashamed of it to hide,
but I speak of it with pride.
It has built with its beauty a home for me to rest
A sip from its rivers relieves my thirst,
a spoon from its brown porridge fills my stomach.
It is Africa, my mother.
I stay proud of my mother’s tongue.
All I’ve learned stays close to my heart.
Whichever land I see
Africa I’ll never flee.
Even if fire sets it alight,
My motherland I’ll never fight.
It is my home,
a part of me I’ll never lose.
A chapter I’ll never close.
May it be brightened by the sun
And let the children taste the African fun.
Africa grow! My motherland rise!