The Hopeful Pilgrims

Onward we go in pursuit of the east,
Toiling along since the rain has now ceased.
Never before has there been such migration,
Not since the birth of this extensive nation.

On to the mountains, we tread rugged trails;
The sun shines upon us and clouds o’er us sail.
Though rivers and oceans before us do stand,
Someday, oh someday, we’ll come to our land.

The sun sets behind us as onward we tread,
A stone is our pillow, the earth is our bed.
This country’s ample for our humble needs,
Yet we seek a better, thus eastward we speed.