Nations of rice and rum, of drought and storms,
Let us hear your song! Let us hear your song!
Nations of beans and corn,
Let us hear your song!
Nations of breadfruit and yams,
Let us hear your song!
The guitar is wounded with five sharp swords.
Oh, what a sad song! What a sad song!
A song of hunger and thirst,
What a sad song!
A song about premature night,
What a sad song!
The Mayan flute plays a mournful dirge.
Don’t play that song! Don’t play that song!
A song of yearning for little ones gone,
Don’t play that song!
A song of worry for those who don’t have long.,
Don’t play that song!
Once proud men sing songs of sighs.
Sigh no more! Oh, sigh no more!
Standing in dank, too crowded cells.
Oh, sigh no more!
Dreaming dreams of dreamlessness.
Oh, sigh no more!
The daughters of Africa sing as they weep.
.Dry your tears! Oh, dry your tears!
A song of angels of dust and children of fear.
Oh, dry your tears!
Of breasts that have no milk to spare.
Oh, dry your tears!
Wait! In the distance a faint sound is heard.
Come, come, sweet drums!
Don’t go! It grows louder by and by.
Ring true, joyful tambourines!
What song is this that dares disrupt despair?
That ebbs the flow of brackish tears?
Come, come, sweet drums!
Bring forth your songs of sturdy homes,
Of clear, cool water that does not kill,
Of books and art and useful skills.
Come, come, sweet drums!
Your song is now just born.
Come, come, sweet drums!
A Balm of Gilead is your song.
A song of fish and bread and work,
Come, come, sweet drums!
A song of dignity and hope,
So that all can dance along.
Come, come sweet drums!
So that our brothers and sisters
Will weep and sigh no more!
