One Train

Ore Train

Yoke up the steers And get on the way To the rocky road once more, Load the wagons, grease the wheels, The smelter needs the ore.

You see the oxen bow their heads And strain to the heavy load, Born to a life of weary toil, Bound to the endless road. But don't you see in the lowly ox There is something else apart, For under each rough and spotted hide Beats a gentle and patient heart.

He follows an arduous way of life Who walks by the plodding span, For mile on mile the oxen need The guiding voice of man.

He breathes the dust, he feels the sweat Brought out by the burning sun, But deep in his heart he knows the pride Of honest work well done.

You see forbidding desert buttes Carved by the wind and the rains, With never a blade of grass nor a tree To soften their rugged planes. But you see then, deep in their hearts, Under their gaunt ribs bare, The priceless golden Treasure That long has been hidden there.

In the hearts of beasts, In the hearts of the hills, Yea, in the hearts of men You may never see the Treasure there Unless you look again.