OK, here's what I've come up - though I might just axe the last verse.

AMERICAN PILGRIM

I hiked into the Canyon; I worshipped with the whales;
Read Steinbeck with the redwoods and Walden on the trails.
I tasted two great oceans and I sifted desert sand;
In cavern chill, on wooded hill, I vowed to love this land.
But all the forest said was, "Hug your own damn tree.
You think that we don't care, and you're as right as you can be.
You've brought no spark to lift the dark that's just before the dawn,
So keep moving on, moving on, moving on."

I searched for inspiration from the brave, the dead, the free.
I murmured in Manhattan and I knelt at Wounded Knee.
I traced the secret railway and the names upon the wall
And I yearned for Reverend King to come back and lead us all.
But all the preacher said was, "Have your own damn dream.
You think the ocean notices each earnest little stream?
Pride and shame are just a game that's over when you're gone,
So keep moving on, moving on, moving on."

From Carnegie to Graceland, paid my reverence to the muse;
I drifted round the Delta sound, still pregnant with the blues.
I went down to the crossroads on a Mississippi night
I baited my old six-string and I waited for a bite.
But all the devil said was, "Tune your own damn axe.
You think that I'm so short of souls I need more two-bit hacks?
I can tell you're dying to sell your queen out for a pawn,
So keep moving on, moving on, moving on."

I was bitter from my travels, too lost and tired to roam
When I found a tent revival and I prayed to make it home.
This futile road and aching load would soon come to the end
And gentle rest with pilgrims blessed the Lord to me would send.
But all St. Peter said was, "Save your own damn soul.
Get off the property, and don't come back until you're told.
It's not for you to pick your time, or say your journey's done,
So keep moving on, moving on, moving on."

PS See this article about Robert Johnson if you don't understand the third verse.

Marion