Prospector’s Lament
N McCallion

If I had a river I’d pan me some gold
Never to die and never to grow old
I’d bring back my mama from the grave where she lay
And the one that I love would have not gone away

There is not another could make me cry or speak
You can starve in a month, you can starve in a week
The mountain is high and the ice it is cold
And all that I have I already have sold

City of Dawson oh how I miss you
The start of a dream that did not prove true
I left in the morning, I made no one cry
And no one will care it I lay down and die


Copyright 1996, Nancy McCallion, from Hat Trick