Oregon Trail Poem

In our wagon
cutting through the trail
not much food to be braggin
nor water in our pail
nothing but trees in our view
one lame horse
and another that lost a shoe
light fading to darkness
sitting up camp
not too cold
but somewhat damp
as we cut through the trail
we see stones
of others that fell
not here to roam
doing our best
going to sit up home
in the west