Africa is in labour
summon the village elders
to make a prayer for the royal birth
the brain child of heavenly matrimony
as the fields turn golden
ripe...with harvest
let the celebrations begin,
the ululations of the African woman,
pour libation to the ancestors with pride
for Africa is in labour
The anxious mother writhes in pain
her eyes shut as the memories of yester years fill her mind
years of slavery, exploitation, poverty,
the aftermath of racism and war
burns like acid rain
The beautiful pain of childbirth
Africa's children lay scattered in the dust
torn apart by untold calamities
that rock the womb of black heritage
she prepares her already full breasts for the coming child
as tears stain her milky bosom
Africa is in labour
the naming ceremony is just about
the royal cockerel is at the shrine
it crows...several times
if it crows 3 times, it is a girl,4 times, a boy
6 times it crows, a child..just a child
Africa bursts into celebration
A child is born
A black child is born
and sound of the African drum fills the air
Africa rises with every beat
Grandpa, blow your kudu horn,
uncle, play your marimba
mama, pluck your nyatiti
let the horn of Africa, down to the cape
burst forth for this celebration of colour
The women ululate in awe
the children break into dance
the men sit around a bonfire, warming their liquor
celebration
For a child is born
Africa is its name
Africa, my Africa...
come see the re-birth of black culture
As Africa rises from the dust
to soar into the heights
of black liberation.
The chief holds the baby up in the air
'Africa will open her eyes, and bury her songs of old
she will recover her unrivalled beauty
and heal from her wounds of affliction
shades of black will be her crown
time surely has told
and Africa, will rise again'
come,
join me celebrate
the rebirth of Black Africa
summon the village elders
to make a prayer for the royal birth
the brain child of heavenly matrimony
as the fields turn golden
ripe...with harvest
let the celebrations begin,
the ululations of the African woman,
pour libation to the ancestors with pride
for Africa is in labour
The anxious mother writhes in pain
her eyes shut as the memories of yester years fill her mind
years of slavery, exploitation, poverty,
the aftermath of racism and war
burns like acid rain
The beautiful pain of childbirth
Africa's children lay scattered in the dust
torn apart by untold calamities
that rock the womb of black heritage
she prepares her already full breasts for the coming child
as tears stain her milky bosom
Africa is in labour
the naming ceremony is just about
the royal cockerel is at the shrine
it crows...several times
if it crows 3 times, it is a girl,4 times, a boy
6 times it crows, a child..just a child
Africa bursts into celebration
A child is born
A black child is born
and sound of the African drum fills the air
Africa rises with every beat
Grandpa, blow your kudu horn,
uncle, play your marimba
mama, pluck your nyatiti
let the horn of Africa, down to the cape
burst forth for this celebration of colour
The women ululate in awe
the children break into dance
the men sit around a bonfire, warming their liquor
celebration
For a child is born
Africa is its name
Africa, my Africa...
come see the re-birth of black culture
As Africa rises from the dust
to soar into the heights
of black liberation.
The chief holds the baby up in the air
'Africa will open her eyes, and bury her songs of old
she will recover her unrivalled beauty
and heal from her wounds of affliction
shades of black will be her crown
time surely has told
and Africa, will rise again'
come,
join me celebrate
the rebirth of Black Africa
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