Thou chatter, when, when thy reverence upsurge,
Thou hath cleared thy route for thy flight,
Thou thwart, never, thou hath parched thy dirge,
Thy heart very vast combat apartheid,
Ardor of my denture, kisses thy gallant feet,
Thy attire, the rich it defeat,
Thy love for the nation, discrete,
Thy altruism, vagabonds are content
Amity of my pupils perceive thy salute,
To the nation, to the firmament, to the destitute,
O’ my dear leader, hitch, whatsoever may come,
Thy valour we’ll follow, we will not accord,
We will live by the sword,
We will die by the sword.