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.