Those African nights so dark and still,
Star blazoned skies; a cricket’s shrill,
Smoke spiraling heavenward from the pyre,
Hands facing palm ward towards the fire…
Eyes transfixed on dancing embers,
Rhodesia is gone, but who remembers,
Scattered all now, around the globe,
Experiencing some, the pains of Job.
Africans angry; their bowels enraged,
Roaring like lions, heinously caged,
Answering the sounds of a distant drum;
Changes in Africa were now just begun
Memories fond, bring a tear to my eye,
Bygone ‘super’ days, now passed me by,
Giving our all for the green and white,
We were trained to kill; trained to fight,
Too many Rhodesians died in vain,
Many still bear the scars, the pain,
We sit now around our fires with chums
Reminiscing the sounds of distant drums…
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