⁠Black shame no livin' down makes white,
The mockin' from the sentry-stands,
⁠The women's laugh, the gaoler's spite.
⁠We are too bloomin' much polite,
⁠⁠But that is 'ow I'd 'ave us be ...
Since I 'ave learned at Waterval
⁠⁠The meanin' of captivity.

They'll get those draggin' days all right,
⁠Spent as a foreigner commands,
An' 'orrors of the locked-up night,
⁠With 'Ell's own thinkin' on their 'ands.
⁠I'd give the gold o' twenty Rands
⁠⁠(If it was mine) to set 'em free ...
For I 'ave learned at Waterval
⁠⁠The meanin' of captivity!