RONALD K SSEKAJJA Biography

Home, sweet home,

Home, sweet home,
There near the brown water river
...

Travel with me pretty maiden
That skies may speak our mother-tongue
Hold my hand a little,
For when men close their eyes
...

Well tell mother, her smile is a light
Its a flashing gold-ray from a sourse so bright
But if love is for love, then mother
You deserve the love, its blue, so blue
...

Death caught me, past lines fading
And I met the eyes of my maker
And tell you what, it's quite chilling
Living past lines of the quiet seeker
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If for once you thought there was beauty
It's a lie that has crossed your thought's duty
Gold too holds dust
And iron too does rust
...