When to Echunga diggings first
I hastened up from town,
Thy tent I sought with anxious care
And paid the money down.
And though my folly ever since
I bitterly deplore,
It soothes my mind to know there were
Three scores of fools before.
Then, Bonney, listen to my lay,
And if you wish to thrive,
Send back the money quick to me,
To number sixty-five.
Who wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long,
Had better to Echunga go,
And not to Mount Coorong.
But as for me I like a swag,
At least a little more
Than what we got there in a week—
Eight pennyweights 'mongst four.
For that, of surface earth we washed
Of dray loads half a score;
I'll swear that cradling never seemed
Such tedious work before.
To sink for gold we then commenced,
With grief I must confess,
'Twas fruitless toil, although we went
Down thirty feet or less.
All you who've paid your one pound ten,
Are on your licence told
That then you are entitled to
Remove alluvial gold.
But if the alluvial gold's not there
I'd like to have it proved
By what ingenious process it
Can ever be removed?
Then back to Bendigo I'll haste,
To seek the precious ore;
Although my one pound ten I fear
Returns to me no more.