An old lady walking down the dusty farm road Looking for a simple home She doesn't want anything extremely smart And she doesn't need a telephone She's the child of a refugee running from the zulu war Living from hand to mouth, dodging the wrong arm of the law She's old and she's bent, her eyes can hardly see And she's going home forever to weenen county Uhamba njalo wemashabala Ukhumbula ku-phi? Uhamba njalo wemashabala Ukhumbula ku-phi wena? Ukhumbula ku-phi wena? Uthwala 'nzima wemashabalala Iya-phi indlela? Uthwala 'nzima wemashabalala Iya-phi indlela? Izinto zomhlaba Izinto zomhlaba She's built more homes than fingers on her hands A sharecropper's wife living on county crown land And then they wrested the harvest from the land and it's lords And when her man died she could cry no more tears And she had lost everything that she ever had to lose So she picks up her walking stick and puts on her car-tyre shoes And she's walking in a dream listening for that special sound The echo of the plough whip over weenen county ground "Weenen county you took my man" she says "You took my home, you took my land You left me all alone - now I'm coming home." Weenen county in the springtime Hadeda's on the wing Blue morning Blue morning Repeat and fade out