Look here come the pilgrims.
Travelling light,
Upon the trails and tracks of old,
They follow until the end,
A hope thier hearts defend.
Smiles for miles,
There seems to be.
When as they pass by so cheerily,
Onto their rest at each next well.
A cloud so bright,
In dust and toil,
These blessed folk, alive and whole,
Complete, because of the way they roll.
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