| The apples ripe upon the bow |
| the orange on the tree |
| The hands were black that picked the fruit |
| for you, but not for me |
| Diamonds shining in the rock |
| gleaming white and blue |
| Ten hours a day in the diamond mines |
| for me, but not for you |
| A sea of grass and mountain ranges |
| beckoning the free |
| A place to walk with head held high |
| for you, but not for me |
| The burning sun of Africa |
| the sky that's always blue |
| Apartheid and the pass laws |
| for me, but not for you |
| A big land, a rich land |
| stretched from sea to sea |
| And all the riches of the earth |
| for you, but not for me |
| A big land, a gracious land |
| a land where old meets new |
| The bullets fired at Sharpville were |
| for me, but not for you |
| You've planted seeds of fear and hate |
| in all who would be free |
| At harvest time the fruit will be |
| for you, and not for me |