The Old Settler's Song

I've traveled all over this country

Prospectin' and diggin' for gold.

I've tunneled, hydraulic-ed, and cradled,

And I have been frequently sold.

And I have been frequently so-o-old,

And I have been frequently sold.

I've tunneled, hydraulic-ed, and cradled,

and I have been frequently sold.

For each man who got rich by mining,

Perceiving that hundreds grew poor,

I made up my mind to try farming:

The only pursuit that was sure.

So rollin' my grub in my blanket

I left all my tools on the ground.

I started one mornin' to shag it

For the country they call Puget Sound.

For the country they call Puget So-o-ound,

For the country they call Puget Sound.

I started one mornin' to shag it

For the country they call Puget Sound.

Arriving flat broke in midwinter,

I found it enveloped with fog

And covered all over with timber,

Thick as hair on the back of a dog.

As I looked at the prospects so gloomy,

The tears trickled over my face

And I thought that my travels had brought me

To the end of the jumpin' off place.

To the end of the jumpin' off pla-a-ace,

To the end of the jumpin' off place.

I thought that my travels had brought me

To the end of the jumpin' off place.

But now as I look all around me,

Observing the world and its shells,

I think of my happy condition,

Surrounded by acres of clams.

Surrounded by acres of cla-a-ams,

Surrounded by acres of clams.

I think of my happy condition,

Surrounded by acres of clams.

Surrounded by acres of clams,

By acres of clams.