Hand me the yoke brother, sister, I see how much it weighs upon your soul,

It's my turn to take the strain, to bear the pain and your time to rest,

Let me stand in place of forefathers and mothers, let me shoulder the oaken pole,

Catch your breath and still the beating heart within your chest,

Fear not, I will not fail you, not pain nor grief will force me from it's bitter load,

My legs, though road weary will not buckle with the strain,

For this is our burden, our responsibility, our long and winding road,

And I swear to play my part while an ounce of strength remains,

And on our way our sons and daughters will judge us by our grit,

By the straightness of our backs against the load we bear,

By our strength, our gentleness, our courage and our wit,

Until our turn is over and this yoke of life is theirs.