SINGING THE SPIRIT HOME (Eric Bogle)
They came for him in the morning, an hour before the dawning,
The pale white moon was waning in the African sky,
The cell door flew wide open and they stood looking at him,
He saw no mercy in their hearts, no pity in their eyes.
As they took him and they bound him, tied his trembling hands behind him,
They felt his courage leave him, his manhood disappear,
His legs would not support him, so from the cell they dragged him,
He sobbed and screamed and cursed them in his loneliness and fear.
Chains, chains, chains - how many souls have died in freedom's name?
To some it is a way of life, to others just a word,
To some it is a snow white dove, to some a bloody sword,
But until the last chains fall, freedom will make slaves of us all.
With faces closed and hidden the white guards walked beside him,
Indifferent to his pleading, they'd been down this path before,
But other ears were listening, other eyes were watching,
Other hearts beat with him in his final desperate hour.
From the darkness of that prison, came the sound of his Brothers singing,
"Courage" their voices told him "you do not walk alone"
From the cells beyond the shadow, he heard their voices echo,
As in love and pride and sorrow they sang his spirit home.
And their song of hope and freedom it rang inside that prison,
It beat against the iron bars it crashed against the stone,
As in their fear and hate they hung him the last sound that filled his being,
Was his Brothers singing, singing, singing, his spirit home.
Courage Brother, you do not walk alone,
We shall walk with you and sing your spirit home.
Stimela, Stimela, Zimbabwe.