I am just a short shoot of a plant,

I sway also in a wind less day,

In a windy day, I fly like a paper in the air,

For I am frail as a shoot of a plant.

Wise I am, a coloured little boy

In the streets of Johannesburg,

I secure the gates of malls

For the customers to give a little

to me, one rand is enough per visitor.

School I left long time ago,

I do recall, just not the date,

Dates aren’t crucial for me to preserve,

I know wise people aren’t

Always educationally gifted

A thin biltong me,

So much dry I am,

As a fire wood,

I swear you would create

Fire with my body,

I am growing on the streets of the sun,

The moon, the rains, and the mist.

Rubbish bins are my magnificent breadwinners,

I am so wise, I have been cleaning them,

For they conserve nice meals for me.