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Death of Stephen Biko

Words and Music by Tom Paxton

Stephen Biko lay in shackles on a urine-sodden mattress.
In the solitary section, he was made to lie there naked.
Ah, ah.
Given nothing he could wash with, exercise was not permitted.
Stephen Biko lay in shackles, compliments of Colonel Goosen.
Ah, Africa!

Port Elizabeth the prison, South Africa the nation,
Stephen Biko lay in shackles, though his hands and feet were swollen,
Ah, ah.
In the close interrogation he was beaten like the others.
He was put back in the shackles, compliments of Colonel Goosen.
Ah, Africa!
Ah, Africa!

He was sick and he was dying, prison doctors came to see him.
When the cops spoke to the doctors they said, Nothing much is wrong here.
Ah, ah.
Just a short stay in the infirmary, then it's back down to the shackles,
On a urine-sodden mattress, compliments of Colonel Goosen.
Ah, Africa!
Ah, Africa!

When they found him in a coma, when the man was clearly dying,
He was naked, but they stowed him in the back of a Land Rover.
Ah, ah.
Though a hospital was near by it was no part of a prison,
So they took him to Pretioria - seven hundred fifty miles.
Ah, Africa!
Ah, ah, Africa!

There was no one on the journey who could help the man survive it,
And the medical equipment was just one bottle of water.
Ah, ah.
When they reached Pretoria prison they brought no medical records with them,
And they said, He might be faking, it's a hunger strike he's staging.
Ah, Africa!
Ah, Africa!

Stephen Biko in pretoria was laid down upon a mattress.
On the stone floor of a prison, and he died his lonely death there.
Ah, ah.
Now, the country was South Africa; the victim, Stephen Biko.
The victim, All South Africa; the victim, all humanity,
At the death of Stephen Biko.
Ah, Africa!
Ah, Africa!