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A SONG OF GOLD
Oh, there’s great exhilaration in the bosoms of the boys Who are sailing for the gold-fields in the West; There’s a roaring time ahead though the dear old days are dead, And the bonny birds are flying from the nest; Let the old folk bide alone, for the whole wide world’s your own, And there’s yellow gold in plenty in the West!
For it’s gold! bright gold! And it’s yours to handle, to have, and to hold! Will you sell your lives, as they have been sold, For the bright, hard gold?
Oh, there’s grief and tribulation for the mothers of the boys, For the sisters and the sweethearts left behind;
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