At the Armagosa River On the bank we sat down Yeah, we wept as we talked of forsaking our town I hung my guitar in the boughs of a tree And cried a while more as I remembered thee The boss wants a song So he shouts to the gang He laughs as we strike up a rhythm with chains But, how can we sing the Lord's song in this land? If I forget thee, Sacramento Strike this harp from my hand If I don't recall that city as my greatest joy The songs of my Father On my toungue will cloy The bossman don't care about my shackle sores He laughs again, and orders us to sing a bit more When I'm free, I swear I'll burn this place to the ground I'll ride through its streets and gun all its folks down O Daughter of Babylon, I'll soon pay you back The blood of your children will paint your streets black Rejoicing, I'll drink from those rivers of gore As I dance to the wails of the Great Scarlet Whore