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**The Quarter Black Bull**
**The Quarter Black Bull**
My grandma's stone lays empty, with unmarked ground presenting as if I hadn't liked her much, but truth is I ain't know enough.
Though my pappie wouldn't say why he'd see her everyday, when he did he'd whisper in a language he spoke rough.
One day Pap, he came to speak, told me grandma needed me. Wanted roses for her stone, To feel that one bit less alone.
Where we're from it is barren, and for roses we'd need trenches, so I'd need to get the right tools. A beast of burdenā man and bull.
It was the Garden Route they call it, where 'pon Cape locomotive I went to get a black bull and give their teeth a look.
The teeth you see, the ivory, length, size, and colouring were catalogued by Spin Street where I'd just reserve a seat.
Got talkin' to the auction clerk on matters of our common blood, when he asked what brought me there, and I told'em 'bout Pappie and his prayer
"Lala ngoxolo, sithando sethu, siyobonana, siyethemba."Ā¹ Well I'd copied him as best he'd shown When eyes burned me to blackened bone.
Thus the rules were clarified, I'd not stay on the biddin' side. my teeth turned bovine by decree that said a quarter sullied me.
Chained and dragged out by the feetā my place reserved in old Spin Street, where my tainted bull blood's sold with tooth declared, and name unknown.
Well, grandma's stone stayed empty, and we're likely two of many who, just like our old an' empty stones, had better get used to bein' dead alone.
Ā¹English: Rest in peace, our beloved, we will see each other again, we hope
I went to get a black bull
My grandma's stone lays empty, with unmarked ground presenting as if I hadn't liked her much, but truth is I ain't know enough.
Though my pappie wouldn't say why he'd see her everyday, when he did he'd whisper in a language he spoke rough.
One day Pap, he came to speak, told me grandma needed me. Wanted roses for her stone, To feel that one bit less alone.
Where we're from it is barren, and for roses we'd need trenches, so I'd need to get the right tools. A beast of burdenā man and bull.
It was the Garden Route they call it, where 'pon Cape locomotive and give their teeth a look. The teeth you see, the ivory,
length, size, and colouring were catalogued by Spin Street where I'd just reserve a seat. Got talkin' to the auction clerk
on matters of our common blood, when he asked what brought me there, and I told'em 'bout Pappie and his prayer "Lala ngoxolo, sithando sethu,
siyobonana, siyethemba."Ā¹ Well I'd copied him as best he'd shown When eyes burned me to blackened bone. Thus the rules were clarified,
I'd not stay on the biddin' side. my teeth turned bovine by decree that said a quarter sullied me. Chained and dragged out by the feetā
my place reserved in old Spin Street, where my tainted bull blood's sold with tooth declared, and name unknown. Well, grandma's stone stayed empty,
and we're likely two of many who, just like our old an' empty stones, had better get used to bein' dead alone. Ā¹English: Rest in peace, our beloved,
we will see each other again, we hope