The Pioneer Waltz
Now the wagons rolled out of Missouri,
Heading west on the Oregon Trail,
Through the blizzards and ice-covered mountains,
And the winds, and the rains, and the hail.
We crossed every river and desert,
And we never gave one backward glance,
And if we weren’t too weary each evening,
We’d take out the fiddle and dance.
We’d dance to the Pioneer Waltz, in time,
And the mandolin played right along,
And the children, they clapped, and the old people napped,
And the Pioneer Waltz was our song.
When the heat or the cold overcame us,
Then we pioneers lightened our load,
And we left half our precious belongings
Cast away by the side of the road.
And we sometimes left little wood crosses,
The graves, they were sometimes quite small,
But we finally set foot up in Oregon,
And the music helped us through it all.
Now the years hurried by without warning,
And we pioneers built us a town,
But you can still hear that old fiddle
Now and then, when the sun has gone down.
We dance to the Pioneer Waltz, in time
And the mandolin plays right along,
The children, they clap, and the old people nap,
And the Pioneer Waltz is our song.
Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2009
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