Gold Rush

Got my backpack brim full
As I hike this decline,
Into Goldfield at last,
Where the gold flows like wine.
I'll forget silver strikes,
It's now gold that's revered,
In the Goldfield ravine,
Where the crowds now appeared.

I will find branching veins,
Teeming thick with gold ore,
That would keep mine cars filled
And still waiting for more.
I may not like the heat,
Or my blistering skin,
A dry hundred and nine,
Listless fever within.

Life's exceedingly hard
In this hot Goldfield town,
I'll be tempted to drink,
And loose women, bunk down.
I will not let escape,
While my confidence wanes,
All the riches and dreams
I hope Goldfield contains.

Population amassed,
Thirty thousand or more,
But the city's decline
Will leave most of them poor.
So the lesson is clear,
With my Goldfield goodbye,
That it's human to strive,
Daring risk to comply.

Published in "Trappings of the Years" and "Eloquence"
by Jack Huber- All rights reserved

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