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39 A country called Zimbabwe This is my country, Zimbabwe From whose people Desperation’s appetite consumes All reasoning So, Shall you, the rational, Resign to the pelting hailstorm, Succumb to the delirious speeches And lay to rest this gripping pain? Shall you watch your voice of freedom Swept away by the tide of time While you huddle under the moon of fear? Shall you once more sing These gabbled songs of a glory long lost And be the dying footsteps in the night? Shall you yield to the baton sticks? The ricochet of rabid rifles And be counted as part of the statistics? Remember! For another five dry seasons of winter You will once again draw Clutching desperately To this bunch of burnt-out straws? ...

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