Do not like to leave the “dear” land,
’Cause our wives do look so grave!
With the world’s broad field for farming,
With the chance of a free life,
Be not like dumb, driven donkeys,
With such prospects have no strife.
Trust no landlord, howe’er pleasant;
Let the dead past bury its dead.
Act, act in the living present,
Heart within and God o’erhead.