Here we are all come from afar, All fixed upon that shining star.
Coming to that final halt, we looked around in pondered thought.
All of we were differnt tribe, A simple farmer up to a scribe.
But why we're here is not a joke, We've all ran from a crimson smoke.
Come to a land that's not our own, we all took root and here we're sown.
Different all in look and class, but one no different from the very last.
Now here in harmony we all do keep, our past and difference now buried deep.