Here's one in Story-teller form. Had to crowd to print on 1 page.
ONE MORE MILE
The Procession was long. The Road stretched away,
over the hills and beyond.
The March-man pondered what he could say,
to help them move along.
He knew they were weary, feet were worn,
but they moved in soldier style.
He signaled the Bugler to sound the horn,
and called out clear and loud.
"One more mile ! One more mile !We can make it One more mile "!
"One more mile"! the marchers answered. "We can make it one more mile" !
The Procession moved on through wind and rain,
and was warmed by light of Sun.
Camped at night on meadow and plain,
to sleep when day was done.
Sentries watched beneath the Moon,
till the Bugler sounded at dawn.
The marchers chanted in unison,
as they rose and journeyed on.
"One more mile ! One more mile !
We can make it one more mile" !
Miles wandered on. The Procession wound,
through valley, hill, and forest green.
They passed across a barren ground,
and forded river and stream.
They covered miles. Years passed too.
Both had taken their toll.
Once there were many, now but a few,
still faithful in heart and soul.
"One more mile ! One more mile" ! They sang dispelling fear.
"We can make it one more mile ! We can make it one more year" !
Today the Villagers, Farmers, and Folk,
who live in the valleys and hills,
speak of a cloud like trailing smoke,
seen in the evening chill.
It moves across the sky like wind.
If you listen for awhile,
you'll hear a sound like a distant hymn.
"One more mile ! One more mile !
We can make it one more mile " !
( © 1995 -"Future Folk" Music - Betty Curtis )
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