On the highroad to death
trudging, not eager to get
to that city, yet the way is
still too long for my patience
—teach me a travel song,
Master, to march along
as we boys used to shout
when I was a young scout.
On the highroad to death
trudging, not eager to get
to that city, yet the way is
still too long for my patience
—teach me a travel song,
Master, to march along
as we boys used to shout
when I was a young scout.