Oh come to the place where they struck it rich,
Come where the treasure lies hid
Where your hat full of mud is a five-pound note,
And a clod on your heel is a quid.
Label your luggage for Klondike,
For there ain’t no luck in the town today
There ain’t no work down Moodyville way,
Pack up your traps and be off, I say,
Off and away to the Klondike.
Oh the scratches the earth and it tumbles out,
More than your hands can hold,
For the hills above and the plains beneath
Are cracking and bustling with gold. Refrain
Extras for Plus Members
- Song with chords (PDF)
- MIDI file