Lyk my engeland het amerika gevra vir hulp toe se hulle nee
Hier waarsku hulle die boere dat die engelse hulle diamante soek en ook oor die konsentrasie kamp
My generals, lords and gentlemen,
Drank as you hardly may come to when
The final account of your deeds may be.
Eight millions starved! Yet the Jubilee-
Why, never such glory since Solomon s throne.
The world was glad that it came to see,
And the Saxon said, " Lo, the world is mine own! "
But mark you ! That glittering great Crown stone,
And the thousand stars that dimmed in this sun,
Were stolen, were stolen every one,
Were stolen from those who starved and died!
Brave Boers, grim Boers, look to your guns!
They want your diamonds, these younger ones
Young generals, lords and gentlemen
Robbers to-day as they were robbers then.
Look to your guns! for a child can see
(Can your children see now for crying? )
That they want your gems! Ah, that Jubilee,
With those lying banners a flying!