Bankrupt, sweaty and tired, yes, in sweat and toil, ploughed in vain, the Boer now stands, tired of all the agonizing. The farmlands and fields lie scorched, through a liberal yes-vote, cursed forever.  

So just listen to the merriment and noise in the bar. There where white drunkards spit contemptuously on once-holy values. There is nobody among them who is remorsefully anguishing over their sins.

But blasphemously they call before God. Look, enough is now enough. However, God does not listen to their pathetic threats or cries for help. Yes, an abomination Boer volk still brings their haughty request. But everything liberal must pay and therefore all of them pay with their precious lifeblood.

Therefore, see the droughts and experience the terrible floods. Listen to the evil calling. Yes, she calls: As black as soot, oh who is going to conserve us and keep us? Look, see the long funeral procession. In an unprecedented famine, the last bit of food leftovers is divided into rations for mankind.

A haughty volk has mocked and tempted God. Therefore, look at this once-beautiful country, soon scorched black, stripped and cursed. Yes, the country now crumbling like an oversweet, cheap cake, while everyone greedily wants a piece thereof.

The Boer is standing forlorn on his porch. He weeps, his blood is being searched, every day, in murder. Yes, while Raca’s hate rages mercilessly in victory over them. Yes, the once-proud Boer is standing defenseless, his hands tied, against the orders of his boss, the Freemason-world-order, he is standing as a coward, just a weakling.