The people died on every route, they sickened and died like sheep; And those at sea before they died were launched into the deep; And those that died while crossing the plains fared not so well as that, For a hole was dug and they thrown in along the miserable Platte. The ships at last began to arrive and the people began to inquire. They say that flour is a dollar a pound, do you think it will be any higher? And to carry their blankets and sleep outdoors, it seemed so very droll! Both tired and mad, without a cent, they damned the lousy hole. A RIPPING TRIP[13] You go aboard a leaky boat And sail for San Francisco, You've got to pump to keep her afloat, You've got that, by jingo! The engine soon begins to squeak, But nary a thing to oil her; Impossible to stop the leak,-- Rip, goes the boiler. The captain on the promenade Looking very savage; Steward and the cabin maid Fightin' 'bout the cabbage; All about the cabin floor Passengers lie sea-sick; Steamer bound to go ashore,-- Rip, goes the physic. Pork and beans they can't afford, The second cabin passengers; The cook has tumbled overboard With fifty pounds of sassengers; The engineer, a little tight, Bragging on the Mail Line, Finally gets into a fight,-- Rip, goes the engine. [Footnote 13: To tune of _Pop Goes the Weasel_.] THE HAPPY MINER I'm a happy miner, I love to sing and dance. I wonder what my love would say If she could see my pants With canvas patches on my knees And one upon the stern? I'll wear them when I'm digging here And home when I return. Refrain: So I get in a jovial way, I spend my money free. And I've got plenty! Will you drink lager beer with me? She writes about her poodle dog; But never thinks to say, "Oh, do come home, my honey dear, I'm pining all away." I'll write her half a letter, Then give the ink a tip. If that don't bring her to her milk I'll coolly let her rip. They wish to know if I can cook And what I have to eat, And tell me should I take a cold Be sure and soak my feet. But when they talk of cooking I'm mighty hard to beat, I've made ten thousand loaves of bread The devil couldn't eat. I like a lazy partner So I can take my ease, Lay down and talk of golden home, As happy as you please; Without a thing to eat or drink, Away from care and grief,-- I'm fat and sassy, ragged, too, And tough as Spanish beef. No matter whether rich or poor, I'm happy as a clam. I wish my friends at home could look And see me as I am. With woolen shirt and rubber boots, In mud up to my knees, And lice as large as chili beans Fighting with the fleas.