Neither your GOLD nor you SILVER brought I here
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I n I a trodding in the footsteps of the Kings Hi-way
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I have a little light in I – Yes I a go make it shine
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What a weeping and mourning when ten thousand thunder roll
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Key Man lock the door and trod in a Zion I
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I want to rest I finger on JAH Golden Pen
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Close by JAH side I must abide
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I n I longing to see King Rastafari to look upon JAH pretty little face
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Oh what a glory that must be
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I n I trodding home to Zion I
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