Classic Poem

We came to Tamichi in 1880
Looking for mineral all the hills o'er,
We travelled the valleys and climbed the steep mountains
Till our feet were all blistered, our legs were all sore.

We packed from the wagons the crooked trail over;
We held a big meeting and voted free roads;
But Boone and Jess Davis they downed old Judge Tucker,
And now all us boys will have to pay toll.

We lived on sow-belly, baked beans and strong coffee;
We done our own cooking and washed our own clothes;
We polished the drill like any old-timer,
And put on the rocks our good honest blows.

The mail to our camp, it came on the jack-train;
Oh jolly Tom Allen, the chief engineer,
He carried our chuck for chick and the miners,
And to the Windsor brought moonshine and beer.

We drank at Ed Dyart's, the solid old duffer,
We'd wink and say, " Ed, mark her down on the slate,
When we strike it we'll ante and then you can rub it. "
He'd smile and say, " Boys, you are rather too late. "

There is Thomas O'Riley, who lives in Creede City,
A jolly old bummer, you can bet your last cent;
For punishing booze, he can beat any baby;
They say that for women, Old Tom is hell bent.

There's old Judge and Ben, who live in the Buckhorn,
They struck a big thing in their own Sleepy Pet;
They were solid for Hancock 'til they heard from Indiana.
" We've struck it! " says the Judge, — " Won't you take something wet? "

Oh, yes, there's another; you may count him a winner;
'Tis said that they struck him while boring for oil;
He runs the Strawberry and works on the Free Road;
'Tis nobody else but our own Andy Boil.

Goodby, old pards, we are going to leave you:
The blanket's rolled up, and the pick's laid away;
We are going Home, to eat Christmas turkey,
We'll meet you again, when the snow melts away.