Come listen my friends I've a true tale to tell
Of a night at the Zumas when it all went to hell.
The Mercs had come in and the tuck shop ran out
Of Walker Blue Label and Castle Milk Stout
The President shouted now what shall we drink?
So he offered them puza, and said with a wink
We can offer you gin, but you say it’s too white,
I can offer you beer, but it’s all Castle Lite.
Oh we'll never, no never, no never again
If we live to a hundred or a hundred and ten,
Not ever rely on the tuck shop for booze
Because it seems all my wives do is lay ‘round and snooze
The Prez he was singing his favourite tune
That said bring my machine gun and made his wives swoon.
And soon they were running to scare up some booze
And a convoy with blue lights went out on a cruise .
To scare up the nearest shebeen they could find
To releasing his stock of most every kind
Of whisky and brandy, no matter the label
And made their way back soon they were able.
The booze it was flowing and the night was still young
When one of the wives to the bar top was flung.
They all gave applause and with no sense of guilt
The ANC know how these women are built.
The President, bless him, stepped up for a drink
And he’s ripe for a party, as many may think.
He's ridden more wives than old Pravin can count
And there never was one that the Prez couldn’t mount.
Nknandla was filled with the black, green and yellow
Of the ANC faithful beginning to mellow.
Worth a year’s worth of wages for any one man
They drank of the booze and they thought up a plan.
The ANC faithful were hatching a plot
To charge tax for the air, it need not be a lot
The people would grumble and take to the streets
And protest and burn tires, the DA would Tweet.
Nkandla was cheering with stomping of feet
And the wives of the President danced in the street.
They danced and they trilled and they gave a loud cheer
For this husband of theirs they thought awfully dear.
Now Jacob we know as an amiable man
And Blade Nzimande passed out on the can.
For the booze that they served on that ill-fated night
Took the legs from the ANC faithful alright
For the Blue Label Whisky mixed with skokiaan
And the farts it engendered would level a barn
Nkandla was filled with near comatose folk
And if Zuma could see it, he’d sure have a stroke.
So the moral dear friends, can be quite clearly seen
If you run out of booze, don’t run to the shebeen
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