Men afire with fever are dragged up from below.
Wounds are dressed with tar, a torch is burning in the hold.
At anchor now in Table Bay, five months under way.
We've been waiting for this day, this day, this day...

The albatross hovered over us for weeks.
Wings now lazily back to sea.
Some dolphins play around the bay.
Sun sinks at the end of day.

Down the rope we go, tenders bring us to the wall.
Light of a torch, a woman's face, love before the final fall.
Like paradise it seems, a man goes down onto his knees.
The ground swells underneath, undernath, underneath...

Winding ways through waterfalls and streams,
Herds of wild pigs foraging
The sick men wander in a dream,
Through fragrant flowers and sunbeams.

The whalebone arches stand as beacons on the shore.
The slavers lead their bands of niggers captured by the score.
A skinny seaman buys a strapping Negro maid.
The liveslock of the slavers trade, slavers trade, slavers trade.