I am a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world of woe Yet there's no sickness, no toil or danger In that bright world to which I go I'm
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this land of woe There'll be no sickness, no toil, no danger In that bright land to which I'll go
I am a poor, wayfaring stranger Wandering o'er this world of woe And there's no sickness, toil or danger In that bright land to which I go I'm going home
I am a poor wayfaring stranger Traveling through this world of woe But there?s no sickness, toil or danger In that bright land to which I go Well, I?
WAYFARING STRANGER (Traditional) « © '55 Writer Share, PD » I am a poor (just a poor) wayfaring stranger (wayfaring stranger) Wanderinging
I am a poor wayfaring stranger Travelling through this world of woe; And there's no sickness, toil, no danger In that bright land to which I go. I'm going
I'm a poor wayfaring stranger While traveling through this world of woe Yet there's no sickness, toil, or danger In that bright world to which I go I'
I am a lone, wayfaring stranger Traveling through this town of woe There are no sins, no fear of danger In that bright land to which I go I'm going home
for the woman I miss ya see I'm just a poor wayfarin' stranger ya check with me ya checking in with the danger I'm just a poor wayfarin' stranger roaming
I am a poor wayfaring stranger While traveling through this world below There is no sickness, toil, or danger In that bright world to which I go I know
I am a poor wayfaring stranger Lord a travelling through this world of woe And I find sickness toil and danger Lord everywhere everywhere I go I'
I am a poor wayfaring stranger Travelling through this world of woes Lord and I find sickness sickness, oh toil and trouble oh Everywhere everywhere
I am a poor wayfaring stranger A-traveling thru this world below But there's no sickness, toil, or danger In that bright land to which I go I'm going
(Traditional) I am a poor wayfaring stranger, Wandering through this world of woe, And there's no sickness, no toil or danger In that bright land to
(Ferre, Ruteboeuf) Que sont mes amis devenus Que j'avais de si pres tenus Et tant aimes Ils ont ete trop clairsemes Je crois le vent les a otes L'amour
(Robert DeCormier/Peter Yarrow/Noel Paul Stookey/Mary Travers) I am a poor wayfaring stranger I'm traveling through This world of woe And there's no
Traditional Hymn I'm a poor wayfaring stranger While traveling through this world of woe Yet there's no sickness, toil, or danger In that bright world
I am a poor wayfaring stranger While journeying through this world of woe; And there?s no sickness, toil nor danger In that bright world to which I