By Original Work
Swing %s the chain gang,
We swing the pick on the railroad,
With hard times here in our hearts,
And the working's done.
Through fields of amber we roam,
Where whispers softly call,
The heart finds a home,
And gentle shines through all.
Let hope fill the air,
And joy fill our souls,
For years beyond compare,
And memories that never grow old.
So swing the pick and pray, friends,
With hard times here filling each day,
Till songs guide us home again,
And we find our peace for aye.
CC0 License
This song is released under CC0 (Public Domain Dedication). You may use it for any purpose, including commercially.