ONE NIGHT IN GRABOUW
In benign Grabouw, where apples grow; far as i can recall, there is no crime at any given time; no violence at all. Nestled in the hollow, it's hard to swallow, what has happened there; a night on the town, brought a man down, a few drinks to ease the care. The country silently sleeps, my soul quietly weeps, for someone I did'nt know, beaten to death in a cell, trapped in a living hell; waiting for the final blow. He came to construct, not to obstruct. In his home far away, there is his wife, he was her life, which is now in disarray.