S.O.B does not refer to “Son Of a Bitch”, although that would be a somewhat befitting phrase for State President of South Africa, Pieter Willem Botha, whom the speaker, Kgositsile, addresses in the poem, especially in the concluding stanza.
S.O.B then would refer to Shortness of Breath. Shortness of...
And every day and night here in Chicago
I know past any argument
That I'm the man you'll never kill
Because I am the son of the blues
I'm Billy Branch, I'm Karl, I'm Mose
Hear now, here now
Here we come
Here we say
He was such a good man
Why did he have to die
In Vietnam, in Angola, in Namibia
Or anyplace anytime in the talons
of inhumanity
Here now South Africa
The Botha regime is a funny thing
Because Serote, my brother
Who has beheld flowers
Serote, who knows
No Baby Must Weep
Has already told us
It is a tough tale
S.O.B was written by Keorapetse Kgositsile.
Keorapetse Kgositsile released S.O.B on Mon Sep 05 1988.