My broe kom ek wat jou gou op a journey,
Bly gou still kyk hier hoor hee
Ek lister van die increase die peace op goodhope ,
ons strate waars die foud? ...
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,
Dead, with the foe at their feet;
Under the sky laid low
Truly their slumber is sweet,
Though the wind from the Camp of the
Slain Men blow,
And the rain on the wilderness beat.