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Ah, the good old times are dead! ah, the weary wait instead, When the ship is scudding on before the wind; For it’s well for those who go to the gay new life you know, But it’s cruel hard for them that stay behind.
But it’s gold! bright gold!And it’s yours to handle, to have, and to hold!Will you sell your hearts, as they have been sold, For the bright, hard gold?
Oh, there’s mighty jubilation in the hearts of all the boys Who are drinking in the grog-shops of the town; And the lamps flare overhead till the gay carouse is sped, And the jolly dogs have knocked their last sous down; What with billiards, dice, and gin, you can make the money spin, When you chance to leave the diggings for the town.
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