Pointed noses pointing east
Toward the Bago we tread to feast
Along the slippery (almost greased)
Banks littered with fish and geese.
Our energies, they will deplete
Unless we reach Omro, at the least.
Where we can lay our heads and stress release,
Though that will not help the ones deceased.
After nights and nights, we reach our peak:
The mouth of the Bago,
Where we’ll rest in peace.