A long time ago, but not too long ago,
But a community dream.
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
Some were free hands
When a man starts out with his hands
The eyes see there materials for building,
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
Heart reaching out to heart,
To a new world, America!
Some were indentured hands
But your world and my world,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
He starts first with himself
Belonging to all the hands who build.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
On the rich soil of the world,
Hoping to find their freedom,
Hand reaching out to hand,
With billowing sails the galleons came
In little bands together,
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Thus the dream becomes not one mans dream alone,
Freedom.
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
And the faith that is in his heart-
First in the heart is the dream-
On the great wooded world,
When a man starts to build aworld,
Freedoms Plow
Free men and indentured servants,
Adventurers and booty seekers,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Some were slave hands
They began to build our land.
A community of hands to help-
Not my world alone,
Seeking a greater freedom,
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
On the rivers of the world.
But the word was there always:
The strength there,
When a man starts out with nothing,
Empty, but clean,
The will there to build.
Slave men and slavemasters, all new-
His eyes look out on the world,
