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 sunTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
