A newspaper was published in Barkerville. And it was in it that James Anderson of Scotland first issued Jeames's Letters to Sawney.
Your letter cam' by the express,
Eight shillin's carriage, naethin' less!
You maybe like to ken what pay
Miners get here for ilka day?
Jus' twa poond sterling', sure as death—
It should be four, between us baith—
For gin ye coont the cost o' livin',
There's naethin' left to gang an' come on.
Sawney, had ye yer taters here
And neeps and carrots—dinna speer
What price; though I might tell ye weel,
Ye'd ainly think me a leein' chiel.
The first twa years I spent out here
Werena sae ill ava';
But hoo I've lived syne; my freend,
There's little need to blaw.
Like fitba' knockit back and fore,
That's lang in reachin' goal,
Or feather blown by ilka wind
That whistles 'tween each pole—
E'en sae my mining life has been
For mony a weary day.
Later, when the dance-hall became the theatre of Barkerville, James Anderson used to sing his rhymes to the stentorious shouting and loud stamping of the shirt-sleeved audience.
He thinks his pile is made,
An' he's goin' hame this fall,
To join his dear auld mither,
His faither, freends, and all.
His heart e'en jumps wi' joy
At the thocht o' bein' there,
An' mony a happy minute
He's biggin' castles in the air!
But hopes that promised high
In the springtime o' the year,
Like leaves o' autumn fa'
When the frost o' winter's near.
Sae his biggin' tumbles doon,
Wi' ilka blast o' care,
Till there's no stane astandin'
O' his castles in the air.