By Original Work
Rise %s the chain gang,
We swing the pick down in the mine,
With rest at last in our hearts,
And the working's done.
Through fields of green we roam,
Where voices softly call,
The soul finds a home,
And bright shines through all.
Let music fill the air,
And peace fill our souls,
For time beyond compare,
And memories that never grow old.
So swing the pick and play, friends,
With rest at last filling each day,
Till songs guide us home again,
And we find our home for aye.
CC0 License
This song is released under CC0 (Public Domain Dedication). You may use it for any purpose, including commercially.