My Broertjie, My Bra

He never knew his dada
His mama never kissed him
No one ever loved him
No one ever missed him

My broertjie, my bra'
Only nine years old
Ran away from home
Struggled on his own
Outside in the cold

Ran away from home
Struggled on his own
Outside in the cold

He's sleeping on the sidewalks
He's dodging through the cars
Pickpocketing drunkards
As they stumble from the bars

Scrounging for food
Like a dustbin dog
Dancing on the white lines
Trying to sell the headlines
In the early morning fog

Dancing on the white lines
Trying to sell the headlines
In the early morning fog

But when it's Christmas time or New Year
When everything is pretty
Time to switch the lights on
And decorate the city

Food displayed in windows
And shops are filled with toys
On the knees of Father Christmas
Sit little girls and little boys

He wears a balaclava
His clothes he never changes
Living off empties
And the charity of strangers

My broertjie, my bra'
No shoes on his feet
Started to sniff glue
Had his first tattoo
His life's a dead-end street

Started to sniff glue
Had his first tattoo
His life's a dead-end street

Started to sniff glue
Had his first tattoo
His life's a dead-end street