Against the wind, I struggle.
Against myself, I fight the urge.
Against nature, I tramp across the plain.
Against time itself, I am lost.
Against the prairie wind, I am nothing.
Against the west, I am a lost girl with a wagon train.

Gold is where we are traveling.
Gold is the dream ahead.
Gold is the reason for the pain and suffering.
Gold is the way across the Rocky Mountains.
Gold provides the motivation for the struggle.

Oregon is our destination.
Oregon will be our home.
Oregon will be our better place.
Oregon is our goal, that seems out of our reach.

The buffalo roam across the wide open plains.
The buffalo provide the only food we know.
The buffalo look streaked out across the horizon.
The buffalo keep my family alive.

Out past the animals, the mountains arise.
Out past the animals, a land untamed settles beyond our wagon train.
Out past the animals, our dangers grow.
Out past the animals, is no one's home.

The land beyond is ever sprawling.
The land beyond is something God scripled into his book of beauty.
The land beyond is something that we cannot trust.
The land beyond is where my home on the range will be.

The wildflowers in the distance, bloom in the fields.
The wildflowers in the distance choose their colors of blue, red, and yellow.
The wildflowers in the distance dance in the wind.
The wildflowers in the distance nod their heads as we meamble by.
The wildflowers in the distance remind me of my home back home.

In the fields of gold, I see what could be.
In the fields of gold, our wagon rolls through slowly as if almost unsure.
In the fields of gold, I see what has been before.
In the fields of gold, I see bones scattered in graveyards.
In the fields of gold, I see crosses lining the road.

The sun in the sky beats down upon our backs with a heat like a campfire.
The sun in the sky watches our lonely wagon wind its way across the West.
The sun in the sky dazzles my eyes.
The sun in the sky watches us march to a town I do not think we will ever reach.

The strong man riding the front of the wagon train keeps his eyes alert.
The strong man riding the front of the wagon is protecting us all.
The strong man riding the front of the wagon drives our weak horses ahead.
The strong man riding the front of the wagon leads with no end.
The strong man riding the front of the wagon is my father.

The little girl walking beside me has tears in her eyes.
The little girl walking beside me has a tight hold on my hand.
The little girl walking beside me has dirt stinging her eyes and burning her cheeks.
The little girl walking beside me is my only sibling left.

With my mother gone, we march on.
With my brother gone, we march on.
With my aunt gone, we march on.
With my uncle gone, we march on.

Away from the town that we knew, with broken hearts astrew.
Away from the town that we knew, with family all gone we march on.
Away from the town that we knew, with the white church and little old schoolhouse.
Away from the town that we knew, with nothing on our backs but the clothes that we wore.
Away from the town that we knew, to Oregon we head, 
It's bust or we’re reunited with the rest of our family laying there right next to the road.