The story of the table grapes

A cock crows
Its the semblance of a reality
That was
Where human shadows gather
In the great land of the dust
Waiting there or getting
On the try
Thats there to bust

The spirit and the vigour
The responsiveness one had
Its the beginning of another day
To the farm the waking nightmare
The damnation of the sad

13 hours of labour
In what is woeful sun
Painful for the fingers
And when the day is done
Aching backs and aching legs
And the truck back to their place
Stoflund where the ugly shacks
Are of course a disgrace

Thousands live and die there
Corrugated all
Barbed wire here its hell itself
Things are where they fall
Its basically a junk heap
Where workers come and go
Children Lots of children
The family numbers grow

Not having any money
Seemingly doesnt curtail
The children born
Their sexual orientation
The poor fail
To realise their
Need to earn the responsibility
Of bringing children into this world
Lost on them it be

100 rang
per household
To send children to school
Really little future there
There is little there at all
Men go early women follow
Children stay put there
If they go to a school
They get a meal
Which is why they are work aware

SOuth Africa is reeling
The politics are crap
Its really really very bad
There is no eternal tap
that brings them all prosperity
Its hardwork Everyday
And picking grapes gets on your tits
Thats what they all say

You can see it on their faces
As they come hom at night
Faces wrinkled by the sun
They can just about alight
And wander back to their shack
And pass out on the ground
This is what is going on
In South Africa I have found