Why, all you had to do wuz to sail on till you come to it.
After a thing is done it is easy enough.
Nowadays we are sot down before as great conundrums as Columbus wuz.

The Old World groans under old abuses, and wrongs, and injustices.

The old paths are dusty and worn with the feet of them who have marked its rocks and chokin' sands with their bleedin' feet, as they toiled on over 'em bearin' their crosses.
Dark clouds hang heavy over their paths--the atmosphere is chokin' and stiflin'.
Fur off, fresh and fair, lays the New Land of our ideal.

The realm of peace, and justice to all, of temperance, and sanity, and love and joy.
Fur off, fur off, we hear the melodious swash of its waves on its green banks--we see fur off the gleam of its white, glory-lit mountain-tops.
Men have gin their strength and their lives for this ideal, this vision of glory and freedom.
Wimmen have took their jewels from their bosom, and gin 'em to this cause of Human Right.

Gin 'em with breakin' hearts, and white lips that tried to smile, as the last kiss of lover and son, husband and brother, rested on 'em.
Yes, men and wimmen both have seen that Ideal Land, that New Land of Liberty and Love.