Half-Ballad of Waterval

  When by the labour of my ’ands
    I’ve ’elped to pack a transport tight
  With prisoners for foreign lands,
    I ain’t transported with delight.
    I know it’s only just an’ right,
      But yet it somehow sickens me,
  For I ’ave learned at Waterval
      The meanin’ of captivity.

  Be’ind the pegged barb-wire strands,
    Beneath the tall electric light,
  We used to walk in bare-’ead bands,
    Explainin’ ’ow we lost our fight.
    An’ that is what they’ll do to-night
      Upon the steamer out at sea,
  If I ’ave learned at Waterval
      The meanin’ of captivity.

  _They_’ll never know the shame that brands--
    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!