Miner's Songs, The One he Sings Here

I'm sitting on a big quartz rock.
Where the gold is said to grow;
But, I'm thinking of the merry flock,
That I left long ago.
My fare is hard, and so is my bed,
My claim is giving out,
I've worked until I'm almost dead,
And soon I shall "peg" out.

I'm thinking of the better days,
Before I left my home;
Before my brain with gold was crazed,
And I began to roam.
Those were the days, no more are seen,
When all the girls loved me;
When I did dress in linen clean,
They washed and cooked for me.

But awful change is this to tell,
I wash and cook myself;
I never more shall cut a swell,
But here must dig for pelf.
I ne'er shall lie in clean white sheets,
But in my blankets roll;
An oh! the girls I thought so sweet,
They think me but a fool.

Author Unknown