And slow--so slow!--the posts went by
Each with a terrible weight
The empty miles ahead ticked down
TO one hundred fifty eight
And ticked again as each man stood
And had his noble say
One fifty left! We're on the path!
To the 32 of Kay.

The valiant band of MOABites
Posted of many things;
Of cooking sauce and bookmobiles,
The divinity of kings.
Of man o' wars and men of peace
And what was worth the pay;
And what we'd see when we crested o'er
That 32 of Kay.