Sara Messenger © 1992
Why do they hate, why do they kill?
Why do they subject the people to their will?
How can they torment, degrade and enslave?
How did these men forget how to behave?
It’s because they do not play the drums
It’s because they cannot hear
The heartbeat of the invisible one
They do not play the drums
On the island of Cuba they tell in dismay
Hear what became of the brave Siboney?
Went to the mountains and dug their own graves
Took their own lives rather than to live as slaves
And so then went the conqueror to African lands
Kidnapped the men with the strongest of hands
Ah, but those hands are still playing, even today
Black and Borinquen, they’re whispering the name:
Siboney, each time they play the drums
Siboney, we hear your name
Each time we call the invisible one
We hear it in the drums
Why do they hate, why do they kill?
Why do they subject the people to their will?
How can they torment, degrade and enslave?
How did these men forget how to behave?
It’s because they do not play the drums
It’s because they cannot hear
The heartbeat of the invisible one
They do not play the drums
