The Poetry Corner

The Diggers Song

By Barcroft Boake

Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff, Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain behind, Just another shovelful and thatll be enough, Now well 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, theres 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 diggers 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, Mans 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, Thats 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, Thats the way we rob the river of its golden fish, Whats that? cant we snare a one? Dont say that theres neer a one, Bah, theres not a colour in the bottom of the dish.