Chapter VII: Part 7

Refrain:
Then they thought of what they'd been told
When they started after gold,--
That they never in the world would make a pile.

The people all were crazy then, they didn't know what to do.
They sold their farms for just enough to pay their passage through.
They bid their friends a long farewell, said, "Dear wife, don't you cry,
I'll send you home the yellow lumps a piano for to buy."

The poor, the old, and the rotten scows were advertised to sail
From New Orleans with passengers, but they must pump and bail.
The ships were crowded more than full, and some hung on behind,
And others dived off from the wharf and swam till they were blind.

With rusty pork and stinking beef and rotten, wormy bread!
The captains, too, that never were up as high as the main mast head!
The steerage passengers would rave and swear that they'd paid their
passage
And wanted something more to eat beside bologna sausage.

They then began to cross the plain with oxen, hollowing "haw."
And steamers then began to run as far as Panama.
And there for months the people staid, that started after gold,
And some returned disgusted with the lies that had been told.

The people died on every route, they sickened and died like sheep;
And those at sea before they died were launched into the deep;
And those that died while crossing the plains fared not so well
as that,
For a hole was dug and they thrown in along the miserable Platte.

The ships at last began to arrive and the people began to inquire.
They say that flour is a dollar a pound, do you think it will be any
higher?
And to carry their blankets and sleep outdoors, it seemed so very droll!
Both tired and mad, without a cent, they damned the lousy hole.

A RIPPING TRIP[13]

You go aboard a leaky boat
And sail for San Francisco,
You've got to pump to keep her afloat,
You've got that, by jingo!
The engine soon begins to squeak,
But nary a thing to oil her;
Impossible to stop the leak,--
Rip, goes the boiler.

The captain on the promenade
Looking very savage;
Steward and the cabin maid
Fightin' 'bout the cabbage;
All about the cabin floor
Passengers lie sea-sick;
Steamer bound to go ashore,--
Rip, goes the physic.

Pork and beans they can't afford,
The second cabin passengers;
The cook has tumbled overboard
With fifty pounds of sassengers;
The engineer, a little tight,
Bragging on the Mail Line,
Finally gets into a fight,--
Rip, goes the engine.

[Footnote 13: To tune of _Pop Goes the Weasel_.]

THE HAPPY MINER

I'm a happy miner,
I love to sing and dance.
I wonder what my love would say
If she could see my pants
With canvas patches on my knees
And one upon the stern?
I'll wear them when I'm digging here
And home when I return.

Refrain:
So I get in a jovial way,
I spend my money free.
And I've got plenty!
Will you drink lager beer with me?

She writes about her poodle dog;
But never thinks to say,
"Oh, do come home, my honey dear,
I'm pining all away."
I'll write her half a letter,
Then give the ink a tip.
If that don't bring her to her milk
I'll coolly let her rip.

They wish to know if I can cook
And what I have to eat,
And tell me should I take a cold
Be sure and soak my feet.
But when they talk of cooking
I'm mighty hard to beat,
I've made ten thousand loaves of bread
The devil couldn't eat.

I like a lazy partner
So I can take my ease,
Lay down and talk of golden home,
As happy as you please;
Without a thing to eat or drink,
Away from care and grief,--
I'm fat and sassy, ragged, too,
And tough as Spanish beef.

No matter whether rich or poor,
I'm happy as a clam.
I wish my friends at home could look
And see me as I am.
With woolen shirt and rubber boots,
In mud up to my knees,
And lice as large as chili beans
Fighting with the fleas.

I'll mine for half an ounce a day,
Perhaps a little less;
But when it comes to China pay
I cannot stand the press.
Like thousands there, I'll make a pile,
If I make one at all,
About the time the allied forces
Take Sepasterpol.

THE CALIFORNIA STAGE COMPANY

There's no respect for youth or age
On board the California stage,
But pull and haul about the seats
As bed-bugs do about the sheets.

Refrain:
They started as a thieving line
In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;
All opposition they defy,
So the people must root hog or die.

You're crowded in with Chinamen,
As fattening hogs are in a pen;
And what will more a man provoke
Is musty plug tobacco smoke.

The ladies are compelled to sit
With dresses in tobacco spit;
The gentlemen don't seem to care,
But talk on politics and swear.

The dust is deep in summer time,
The mountains very hard to climb,
And drivers often stop and yell,
"Get out, all hands, and push up hill."

The drivers, when they feel inclined,
Will have you walking on behind,
And on your shoulders lug a pole
To help them out some muddy hole.

They promise when your fare you pay,
"You'll have to walk but half the way";
Then add aside, with cunning laugh,
"You'll have to push the other half."

NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM

My country, 'tis of thee,
Land where things used to be
So cheap, we croak.
Land of the mavericks,
Land of the puncher's tricks,
Thy culture-inroad pricks
The hide of this peeler-bloke.

Some of the punchers swear
That what they eat and wear
Takes all their calves.
Others vow that they
Eat only once a day
Jerked beef and prairie hay
Washed down with tallow salves.

These salty-dogs[14] but crave
To pull them out the grave
Just one Kiowa spur.
They know they still will dine
On flesh and beef the time;
But give us, Lord divine,
One "hen-fruit stir."[15]

Our father's land, with thee,
Best trails of liberty,
We chose to stop.
We don't exactly like
So soon to henceward hike,
But hell, we'll take the pike
If this don't stop.

[Footnote 14: Cowboy Dude.]

[Footnote 15: Pancake.]