Scrape
the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff,
Fossick
in the crannies, lest you leave a grain
behind,
Just another shovelful and that'll be enough,-
Now
we'll take it to the bank and see what we can
find,
Give
the dish a twirl around,
Let
the water swirl around,
Gently let it circulate, there's music in the swish,
And
the tinkle of the gravel,
As
the pebbles quickly travel
Around in merry circles on the bottom of the dish.
Ah, if
man could only wash his life, if he only could,
Panning
off the evil deeds, keeping but the
good,
What a mighty lot of digger's dishes would be sold,
Though
I fear the heap of tailings would be greater
than
the gold,
Give
the dish a twirl around,
Let
the water swirl around,
Man's the sport of circumstance however he may
wish,
Fortune!
are you there now?
Answer
to my prayer now,
And drop a half ounce nugget in the bottom of
the
dish.
Gently
let the water lap, keep the corners dry,
That's
about the place the gold will generally stay,
What was that bright particle that just then
caught
my eye?
I
fear me by the look of things 'twas only yellow
clay,
Just
another twirl around,
Let
the water swirl around,
That's the way we rob the river of its golden fish,
What's
that? can't we snare a one?
Don't
say that there's ne'er a one,
Bah, there's not a colour in the bottom of the dish.