Cry the beloved country

Cry the beloved country
These things are not yet an end
The sun pours down on earth
On the lovely land that man cannot enjoy
He knows only the fear in his heart

Cry for the broken tribe
For the law
And the custom that is gone

Cry the beloved country
For the unborn child
That is the inheritor of our fear
Let him not love the earth too deeply
Let him not laugh too gladly
When the water runs through his fingers
Nor stand too silent
When the setting sun makes red the veld with fire
Let him not be too moved
When birds of his land are singing
Nor give too much of his heart
To a mountain or a valley
For fear will rob him all

Cry the beloved country

(Arranged by dzumbu from words written by Allan Paton in 'Cry the beloved country')