Doin’ a good stroke of business, for cash or beaver-skins only.
On Nat’s. roof of split shingle, illustrious Governor Tarbox
Hoisted the Stars and the Stripes, representative there of the Mighty,
The Free, and the Fearless of airth, the Go-a-head ’Merican people;
Boarded there the great Tarbox, and took his horn like a mere man,
Paying four dollars per diem for grub, grog, shake-down, and washin’.
Then came down, like iled lightning, on St. Francisco a rumour—
Fame her brazen trump turned best mint metal to puff it—
How that the root of all evil was found growin’ wild up the country,
How gold stuck to folk’s fingers that washed in the St. Sacramento!