394
OREGON LITERATURE
THE DAYS OF '49
We have worked our claims,
We have spent our gold,
Our barks are astrand on the bars;
We are battered and old,
Yet at night we behold,
Outcroppings of gold in the stars.
Chorus — Tho' battered and old.
Our hearts are bold,
Yet oft do we repine;
For the days of old.
For the days of gold.
For the days of forty-nine.
Where the rabbits play.
Where the quail all day
Pipe on the chaparral hill;
A few more days.
And the last of us lays
His pick aside and all is still.
Chorus —
We are wreck and stray.
We are cast away.
Poor battered old hulks and spars;
But we hope and pray,
On the judgment day,
We shall strike it up in the stars.
Chorus—
