by the rivers of babylonni sat and wept, remembering zionnwe laid our harps by willow treesnfor our captors required us a song, singing,nnsing a song of hopensing a song of zionnhow can i sing your songs in a foreign land?nnif i forget you, oh, jerusalem,nmay my right hand forget her skillsnmay my mouth run dry and be stillnmay my right hand forget her skills