(Mother poems) To his mother the kitchen meit
Mother, Mother
D'you see that there
Beer hall
I don't want to go there
Mother, mother
Do you see those there boys and girls
Into that abandoned house they go
To make babies as if baby making
Is going out of fashion
Protect me mother I don't
Want to run with the wrong crowd
Mother, mother
Do you see that man
He carries death
In the bulging bag slung casually on his
Broad shoulders
He sells drugs and illicit booze
Stand close to me mum I don't want
To fall into the clutches of the bootleggers
And the merchants of death the drug lords
Mother, mother
Do you see that inviting
Jail house
Be with me mother
Give me the tons of your love
I don't want to miss you in jail
Mother, mother
Do you see that silent cemetery
Stand by my side mother
For I am scarred
And the cemetery is so silent
So discouraging for those who don't
Want to die young
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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