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I've traveled all over this country |
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Prospectin' and diggin' for gold. |
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I've tunneled, hydraulic-ed, and cradled, |
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And I have been frequently sold. |
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And I have been frequently so-o-old, |
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And I have been frequently sold. |
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I've tunneled, hydraulic-ed, and cradled, |
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and I have been frequently sold. |
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For each man who got rich by mining, |
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Perceiving that hundreds grew poor, |
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I made up my mind to try farming: |
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The only pursuit that was sure. |
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So rollin' my grub in my blanket |
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I left all my tools on the ground. |
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I started one mornin' to shag it |
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For the country they call Puget Sound. |
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For the country they call Puget So-o-ound, |
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For the country they call Puget Sound. |
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I started one mornin' to shag it |
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For the country they call Puget Sound. |
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Arriving flat broke in midwinter, |
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I found it enveloped with fog |
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And covered all over with timber, |
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Thick as hair on the back of a dog. |
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As I looked at the prospects so gloomy, |
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The tears trickled over my face |
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And I thought that my travels had brought me |
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To the end of the jumpin' off place. |
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To the end of the jumpin' off pla-a-ace, |
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To the end of the jumpin' off place. |
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I thought that my travels had brought me |
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To the end of the jumpin' off place. |
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But now as I look all around me, |
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Observing the world and its shells, |
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I think of my happy condition, |
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Surrounded by acres of clams. |
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Surrounded by acres of cla-a-ams, |
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Surrounded by acres of clams. |
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I think of my happy condition, |
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Surrounded by acres of clams. |
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Surrounded by acres of clams, |
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By acres of clams. |
