The Ballad Of Sacco And Vanzetti, Part One

Give to me your tired and your poorYour huddled masses yearning to breathe freeThe wretched refuse of your teeming shoreSend these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me."Blessed are the persecutedAnd blessed are the pure in heartBlessed are the mercifulAnd blessed are the ones who mournThe step is hard that tears away the rootsAnd says goodbye to friends and familyThe fathers and the mothers weepThe children cannot comprehendBut when there is a promised landThe brave will go and others followThe beauty of the human spiritIs the will to try our dreamsAnd so the masses teemed across the oceanTo a land of peace and hopeBut no one heard a voice or saw a lightAs they were tumbled onto shoreAnd none was welcomed by the echo of the phrase"I lift my lamp beside the golden door."Blessed are the persecutedAnd blessed are the pure in heartBlessed are the mercifulAnd blessed are the ones who mourn