A whisper came from lips, ice cold.
Help me Father, for I must go,
to search this broad land
for my pot of gold;
To bring forth riches
first found by thee.
The richness of freedom
to pray on my knee.
A whisper came from lips, ice cold.
Help me Father, for I must go,
to search this broad land
for my pot of gold;
To bring forth riches
first found by thee.
The richness of freedom
to pray on my knee.