The Fever Tree

Now the mourners file in

Let the ceremony begin

Unlock the rape gate

To your childhood country

To the slow-hand war

Their wrath has made scavengers of us all

And stripped us of our pride

An honorable fall

Their wrath has reduced us to thieves

Once and for all

Now your clouds are aching;

Aching with rain

Your laws are brown with age

And so I lay, shivering in the wet shade

Of the Fever Tree, all pale

With the waste of it all

We all felt Rhodesia's youth

Ebbing away;

Leopard crawling in the dust and thorns

Leopard crawling in the dust and thorns

Leopard crawling in the dust and thorns

Leopard crawling in the dust and thorns