[Verse 1] The wagon wheel is splintered, I suppose we'll have to wait, It’s typical for us to meet a miserable fate. The Howell ledger's soaking in a puddle by the trail, I told them it would rain today, my foresight doesn't fail. The Howey mules are stubborn, and they’re looking rather thin, I doubt we’ll ever make it to the place we should begin. The revolution left us with a dusty strip of land, And a heavy stack of papers that I hardly understand. [Chorus] Oh, keep on moving forward, though the axle’s going to break, We’re carrying the lineage, whatever it may take. Expect the bitter winter, and expect the biting fly, Beneath the gray and looming of a never-ending sky. The ink is running sideways and the rein is nearly through, But I'll keep the horses walking, 'cause there's nothing else to do. [Verse 2] My brothers talk of glory and a frontier paved in gold, But all I see is misery and winters bitter cold. I’m writing down the inventory, counting every bean, The sorriest collection that this family's ever seen. The Howey spirit's supposed to be a fire in the night, But mine is just a candle that is giving up the fight. We’re headed toward Ohio, or perhaps a muddy ditch, I’m sure we’ll find the latter, there’s no chance of striking rich. [Chorus] Oh, keep on moving forward, though the axle’s going to break, We’re carrying the lineage, whatever it may take. Expect the bitter winter, and expect the biting fly, Beneath the gray and looming of a never-ending sky. The ink is running sideways and the rein is nearly through, But I'll keep the horses walking, 'cause there's nothing else to do. [Bridge] They call me the complainer, they say I drag them down, But I’m the only reason that we haven't up and drown. I plan for the disaster, I prepare for the decay, While they are busy dreaming all the afternoon away. I packed the extra iron, and I packed the extra thread, Because I know tomorrow brings a brand new kind of dread. A female of the bloodline with a shadow on her mind, Leaving all the comfort and the happiness behind. [Verse 3] The ink is barely legible, the quill is snapping short, There’s no one left to listen to my sorrowful report. The horses need a shoeing, and the fodder's getting low, I knew this whole endeavor was a foolish way to go. But tie the harness tighter, and pull the canvas tight, We’ll probably be shivering throughout the coming night. The sixteenth generation is a weary, plodding soul, Just waiting for the river to extract a heavy toll. [Chorus] Oh, keep on moving forward, though the axle’s going to break, We’re carrying the lineage, whatever it may take. Expect the bitter winter, and expect the biting fly, Beneath the gray and looming of a never-ending sky. The ink is running sideways and the rein is nearly through, But I'll keep the horses walking, 'cause there's nothing else to do. [Outro] The banjo slowly dies away, just like the evening sun, I suppose the daily suffering is only just begun. The wagon gives a shudder, and the horses give a sigh, I knew it would be awful, and I didn't even try. The ledger is a damp and heavy burden on the knee, Just another gloomy chapter in the family tree.
