THE DIGGER’S SONG
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff!
Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain behind!
Just another shovelful and that’ll be enough—
Now we’ll take it to the bank and see what we can find . . .
Give the dish a twirl around!
Let the water swirl around!
Gently let it circulate—there’s music in the swish
And the tinkle of the gravel,
As the pebbles quickly travel
Around in merry circles on the bottom of the dish.
Ah, if man could wash his life—if he only could!
Panning off the evil deeds, keeping but the good:
What a mighty lot of diggers’ dishes would be sold!
Though I fear the heap of tailings would be greater than the gold . . .
Give the dish a twirl around!
Let the water swirl around!
Man’s the sport of circumstance however he may wish:
Fortune! are you there now?
Answer to my prayer now—
Drop a half-ounce nugget in the bottom of the dish.
