When the prophets of doom betray
The struggle I devoted my life to,
And begin to undermine all that we have achieved,
Will you pick the spear that is my legacy?
Or will you trample on the memories of great men
Like Tambo and Sisulu as you rush towards
The exit door?

Dry your tears for my long walk ends here,
But yours continues.

My footprints await you – sons and daughters
Of this beautiful land,
Not those who will report to me soon.
Do not be intimidated by their size,
For my feet were once small too.

Dry your tears for my long walk ends here,
But yours continues.

How will the world speak of you in years to come?
Will they say if Mandela was still alive?
Or will you show them
The same tenacious spirit that defeated apartheid
Will now triumph
Over poverty, unemployment and illiteracy?

Dry your tears for my long walk ends here,
But yours continues.

Individually some of you are black, some are white;
Some are rich, Some are poor;
You are descendants of Verwoerd and Biko,
De Klerk and Hani.
Collectively you are South Africans,
The envy of the world.