Mercator going for gold30 Jul 2010 09:17
Three last verses from a Rhyme about gold to put us in that golden mood
Colored population
Lucky to a man,
Putting on the airs that
Only darkies can.
Chinaman with rocker
Slowly trots along,
Muttering as he passes –
“Tax no good for John.”
Men of every nation,
Men of every shade,
Men of every station,
Men of every grade,
Entering together
In the golden race,
Pitching into nature,
Tearing up her face!
Turning all the rivers,
Working in the rills,
Tunnelling the mountains,
Sluicing off the hills,
Sweating in the sun, and
Shivering in the blast,
Mighty pleasant mode of
Living very fast!