There are long cloud shadows on the plains of Africa

But no rain
The red earth cries for water
But to no avail
The patterns of the landscape are nature’s
Not the checkered tablecloth of man
Africa does it her way
And none to argue

In the airport in Jo’berg
A hooded woman in black
With only her eyes exposed
Follows her master obediently
A black man so black and so beautiful
I cannot take my eyes off him
A tribal prince in modern dress
Chinese Egyptian
Man from Mumbai
Mozambique child in a Gap shirt
Sad-eyed priest from the Ivory Coast
American composer drinking it all in
All heading down to the end of the world
A meeting tonight in Cape Town

There are baboons in my back yard
And walking the streets of Simon’s Town

Mburra from Zimbabwe hawks her wares
Sells me soapstone hippopotamus
And lies when she says she made it
I can see it in her eyes
Somebody told her to do so
I don’t give a damn
I must have this hippopotamus

We drive on the ‘wrong side’
And laugh at the consequences
Flying hubcaps and bushes in my teeth
Takes all the concentration we got
Just to stay alive
Lost in Constantia
Funny man and straight man praying
Show us the way to Fish Hoek
Dear God
Show us the way to go home

There are baboons in my back yard
And walking the streets of Simon’s Town

The beauty and wonder of this magical city
Are more than I can bear
God in His infinite humor
Has created this implausible place
Out of the leftovers of His greatest work
Africa
And plopped it right here
On the end of the world
Cape Town

The great Mandela waiting in his prison cell
Zuma and his nine wives and countless children
A Zulu nation standing with the giraffes
The surfers searching the perfect wave
Lost seals washing ashore from Antarctica
All looking to the discombobulation
That is Cape Town South Africa

There are baboons in my back yard
And walking the streets of Simon’s Town
Fifteen baboons or more
Father Mother baby on her back
Climbing the fences
Swinging from trees
Hanging on gates
Prowling the sidewalks
Scaring the tourists
Looking as if they belonged
Acting as if they owned the joint
With their red butts indelicately bare
Out for a stroll on the end of the world
In the genteel streets of South Africa

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.