| tune:Rosin the Beau |
| C | |
| I've travelled all over this country, |
| F | |
| Prospecting and digging for | gold. |
| C | |
| I've | tunneled, hydraulic'd and cradled, |
| G7 | C | |
| And I have been | frequently | sold. |
| Chorus: |
| C | |
| And | I have been frequently sold, |
| F | |
| And I have been frequently | sold. |
| C | |
| I've | tunneled, hydraulic'd and cradled, |
| G7 | C | |
| And I have been | frequently | sold. |
| For one that get riches by mining, |
| Perceiving that hundreds grow poor, |
| I made up my mind to try farming, |
| The only pursuit that is sure. |
| Chorus. |
| So rolling my grub in my blanket, |
| I left all my tools on the ground, |
| I started one morning to shank it, |
| For a country they call Puget Sound. |
| Chorus. |
| Arriving flat broke in mid winter, |
| I found it enveloped in fog, |
| And covered all over with timber, |
| Thick as hair on the back of a dog. |
| Chorus. |
| I staked out a claim in the forest, |
| And set myself down to hard toil, |
| For two years I chopped and I loggered, |
| But I never got down to the soil. |
| No longer the slave of ambition, |
| I laugh at the world and it's shams, |
| I think of my happy condition, |
| Surrounded by acres of clams. |
| Chorus. |