I wanted the gold, a:nd I sought it;
I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy-I fought it
; I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got it
-Came out with a fortune last fall,
Yet somehow life’s not what I thought it,
and somehow the gold isn’t all ….
There’s gold, a:nd it’s haunting and haunting;
It’s luring me on as of old;
Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting
So much as just finding the gold.
It’s the great, big broad la:nd way up yonder,
It’s the forests where silence has lease;
It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder,
It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.
