I went digging for gold
Down by the river
Over by the mountain
Where the prospektor had been told
I’m marching through the cold
We’re marching through the cold
I went digging for gold
I went down with my brother
A bucket and a shovel
and a book about the colour of coal
I’m marching through the cold
We’re marching through the cold
There’s a tiny little crackle on the telephone line
Saying what use the metal if the metal
don’t shine?
She said bring me back a diamond/ring
cause I really want one
Now I been digging so long that I never
see the sun