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gold view 3

Published in Maitland Mercury and Hunter River


The Digger’s Toast

How merrily passes the digger’s life
How pleasant from day to day
To live in the ranges free from strife
And have no rent to pay
And when his dinnertime has come
He fells the nearest tree
And soon finds out the shortest way
To cook his beef and tea.

Then fill your tinpot each lively blade
With Europe’s fiery waters
And drink success to the digger’s trade
And break up to the squatters

It’s true a gentle loving wife
Adorns her husband’s tent
But, except when buying fashion
The women are never content
And then how shocking to have young brats
To squall and mess on one’s knee
Let those get spliced who feel inclined
But a single life for me

Work, my lads, for the golden ore
Must be done before it’s found
And steady old fossickers often get more
Than the first to open the ground;
And who would like when old age blights
To swallow Poverty’s pill?
No, work away, and then you may play
When the loafer labours still.