I Am a Rhodesian

A POEM FROM A WELL KNOWN MAN "ALF HUTCHINSON"
IN MY BLOOD.
My Doctor he once told me, “Alf you have rare blood;”
Traces of Kariba blue, and a touch of Gokwe mud.
There are traces of the Valley and it’s Tsetse Fly,
Malaria bugs swim freely, I cannot tell a lie.
Traces of fish eagles, and the Red Bishop weaver;
Together with Bilharzia, and black water fever.
A build-up of Sadza and traces of burnt Braais;
Of course Mopane worms and those little pesky flies.
Looking me in the eye, tearfully he began to say
“You have the rarest of diseases... it will never go away;
You have Rhodesian blood trapped in your veins,
Which just keeps your heart, and your soul, in chains“..