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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “No Water for the Poor”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
When the pipes run dry— you hear the truth. The rich still drink— while they steal our youth. The dam is high. The taps run low. For the ones who bake— in the sun’s hot glow. They sell each drop to the highest hand, while children queue in dusty sand. Politicians smile with bottled glass— never walk where the dry roads pass. When the rain falls— the gutters sing, but tanks are locked like a private spring. It’s a thirsty town. The game’s unfair. We’ll shout— till they start to care. When the river runs—don’t close the door. Water’s life— it belongs to the poor. No water for the poor, while gardens drink at night. No water for the poor, but lawns still glow in sight. Woza! Woza! They tax the rain from zinc roof tin. Sell the sun to the ones within. But the ground still knows how to store the flow. And the people know what the rivers know. We’ll break the locks. We’ll turn the wheel. Till the thirsty drink. Till the wounds can heal. Water’s ours— it’s in the stone. In the blood. In the bone.
Instructional lyrics
[Intro: 8 bars — Guitar stabs sharp, whistle playful but ironic, claps steady] When the pipes run dry, you can hear the truth The rich still drink while they steal our youth The dam is high but the taps are low For the ones who wait in the sun’s hot glow [Verse 1: 16 bars — Fast, snappy groove] They sell the drops to the highest hand While the children queue in the dusty sand Politicians smile with their bottled glass But they never walk where the dry roads pass And when the rain falls, the gutters sing But the tanks are locked like a private spring It’s a thirsty town when the game’s unfair But we’ll shout it loud till they start to care [Pre-Chorus: 8 bars — Percussion tight, whistle echoes] When the river runs, don’t close the door Water’s life, it belongs to the poor [Chorus: 8 bars — Strong, sarcastic edge] (No water for the poor) While the gardens drink at night (No water for the poor) But the lawns are green in sight (Crowd chant: “Woza! Woza!”) [Verse 2: 16 bars — Congas and stomps added] They tax the rain from the zinc roof tin They sell the sun to the ones within But the ground still knows how to store the flow And the people know what the rivers know We’ll break the locks and we’ll turn the wheel Till the thirsty drink and the wounds can heal Cause the water’s ours, it’s in the stone It’s in the blood, it’s in the bone [Pre-Chorus: 8 bars — Repeat] [Chorus: 8 bars — Repeat with Woza! chant] [Instrumental Break: 8 bars — Whistle solo mocking the elite tone] [Chorus: 8 bars — Final, more crowd voices] [Outro: 8 bars — Faint chant “Woza amanzi…” (bring the water)]
Song info
Sharp, sarcastic South African funk-rock with choppy rhythm guitar, tight bass groove, crisp snare, and playful penny whistle fills. Percussion blends drum kit, claps, and light stomps for a snappy, streetwise feel. Verses have a biting, spoken-sung delivery; choruses explode into chant-heavy refrains. The arrangement carries satirical bite while staying danceable and infectious.
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