When the warm winds blow ‘cross Africa,

And God smiles down from high,

And raging torrents smash the land,

Tumultuous clouds the sky

Then leave us free to wander,

Free and clear to roam,

To find our own place in this world,

To find our own way home.

You cannot know our feelings

In this special place on Earth.

You do not feel the warm winds blow

The sun, the bush, the dirt.

It is We who live here, proud and strong,

It is We to choose our right and wrong,

With glory streams from high above,

It is We to find our way to love.

2002