It's not like I'm opposed to itnjust leaving has its pricenYour mother's dying wish to menwas raise these children rightnSo, Deborah, and Joshua, and AbigailnWe'll gonnA wounded knee and a worn-torn dreamnhave often challenged menSo, children dear, go pack your thingsntomorrow morn we'll leavenfor liberty, towards charitynand for mother dear we'll gonnChildren, come follow menWe'll run across this piernSecretly we'll hide and we'll stowaway in herenIt's time to leave everything we've ever loved beforenBut if the bobby comes aboard, we may never see New YorknnThe crimson shade of the evening hillnprotect us, happy fewnso close your eyes and dream sweet dreamsnWe'll land in three short weeksnnNow Abigail, please dry your eyes or your fever will risenDon't cry, don't cry!nnChildren, come follow me, we'll toss her overboardnAbigal is home in the heavens with the LordnWe're eight days from happinessnand eight days isn't longnGather round the latern, we'll sing a happy songnnWe'll singnlie, lie, lie ,lie ,lie, lie, lienlie, lie, lie lie, lie lie, lienx2