My tools are my hope, I can't sit:
The fuel with which my faith is lit
Diligence is dog's size in sight
Faith is the internal fight might
Rust! My tools are rust, I'll get spray;
Despair must leave, workers let's pray
Here lies our blessing in disguise
My seeds feed on tears from sky's eyes
Harvest! My field deluge not moist;
When hope returns, my flag will hoist.
As I couldn't wait, Hope knocks at my door:
"It's Hope, take baskets and fill your store"