Hak Hom Blokkies

The moustache on his lip is pencil thin
Like the middle path through his hair
And although his friends call him Blokkies
His wife would call him Joubert

"Ag Christina, Christina" he thinks to himself
You never could understand
What it feels like to dummy and to sidestep
With a leather ball in your hands

Man it's hard to believe this is Blokkies Joubert
A hooker in the Springbok scrum
Cause he's old and grey and he sits in his chair
In the slanting winter sun
But he made his name with that wonderful game
That he played in 1931
When he sits in the lounge of the old age home
Just a north of Beaufort West
And he watches a TV program of Springbok rugby test
As the images flicker upon the screen he can hear the manne call
They say "Hak kom, hak hom Blokkies, Blokkies hak dahi ball"
En ons sê: "Druk hulle, druk hulle bokkies, druk hulle mannetjes flou
Hak hulle hak blokkies, hak hulle bolletjies
you
Lig julle kniee druk julle driee daar agter die doellyn nou"

As he sits there in the afternoon sun, his memories come and go
He can clearly recall Bennie Osler and Boy and Fanie Louw
As he drifts back to the old days he hears the manne call
They say , "Hak hom, hak hom Blokkies, Blokkies hak daai ball"
En ons sê:
"Druk hulle, druk hulle bokkies, druk hulle mannetjes flou
Hak hulle hak blokkies, hak hulle bolletjies
you
Lig julle kniee druk julle driee daar agter die doellyn nou"

Ja ons ouens was rof in die ou dae, but we played a gentleman's game
But it's all been spoiled by politics, it's never going to be the same
So he drifts back to the old days and he hear the manne call
They say, "Hak hom, hak hom Blokkies, Blokkies hak daai ball"
En ons sê:
"Druk hulle, druk hulle bokkies, druk hulle mannetjes flou
Hak hulle hak blokkies, hak hulle bolletjies
you
Lig julle kniee druk julle driee daar agter die doellyn nou"