No graves in Egypt

Were there no graves in Egypt--
Moses, dear?
Were there no graves in Egypt
that you brought us here?

From the land where we toiled
endlessly.
Even on sabbath,
relentlessly.

Our masters were greedy,
unjust, unfair.
But at least that was yoke
that we could bear.

The desert heat,
we cannot stand.
The hunger and thirst
and scathing sand.

Our feet are scorched.
Our throats so parched.
Our fellows collapsing
as we march.

We've endured the hardships,
but not this bad.
The tears streamed down,
but never this sad.

Were these dark days
coming anyway?
And the desert sun
just might allay...

The most bitter and painful
and rotting tears.
The festering doubts,
and robbing fears.

So before we raise
our fists to curse:
If we never left Egypt
would it be worse?

Were there no graves in Egypt?
No place to lie?
Is that why you led us
to the desert to die?

We have no grounds
which to complain.
Our forbears endured
much greater pain.

Our tests and trials
cannot compare.
They were much more hearty;
we're loathe to bear.

Content with bondage
Content as slaves.
You turned us into
homeless knaves!

Content to toil
for nothing gained.
Our children learned
to do the same.

So before we raise
our fists to curse:
If we were still slaves
would it be worse?

Were there no graves in Egypt--
Moses, friend--
that you brought us to the desert
to meet our end?

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This piece also has a counterpart.  Check out the prequel BFE