Pilgrim hey! Pilgrim ho!

Pilgrims are old hat. They heyday of the guide draws near.

Pilgrim hey! Pilgrim ho!
Which way do you,
o nomad, go?
What land does fortune keep?

Out West where
lights shall never die?
Or East to where
the sunbeams lie?

Or North in search
of camping herds,
or South to feast
on nesting birds?

Alas, your horse
seems weary.

Best I advise you
toward your end.
At least I know
where perils wend!

Reveal to me your
food and route,
for storms ahead
are raining doubt

as a fox may lure
his foes astray;
he nears his prize
while hunters bay.