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Tim Hus
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Yukon Trail
I left for the Yukon trail and I lived to regret the day Bound for the Klondike goldfields two-thousand miles away I paid too much for passage that much I can recall On a steamship so overfilled it could barely float at all
On the rocky Northern coast we ran aground three times But somehow we made it to Dyea up at the end of the line Lured on by the promise of fortune and of fate On the stampede rush winter of ninety-seven and ninety-eight
Up the Chilkoot Pass fourty times and back To haul a years worth of supplies past the Mounties and the tax Already I was done for but the trail had just begun On the Yukon Klondike gold rush in the land of the midnight sun
Chorus: I lost my soul in the search for gold up on the Yukon trail On a cold dark night 'neath the Northern lights Where the wind and the wolves did wail Some say that hell is a mountain of fire But I know that it ain't so It's the ice and the snow and the frostbite cold When the team won't pull and the dogs won't go And the curse of the Yukon gold
I spent the Winter chopping logs and planing planks and boards Building a scow to float downriver on the Lake Bennett shore Living in a canvas tent where the blizzard winds did blow I never felt the cold before at fify-five below
更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 I lost my mind to cabin fever counting the restless days Waiting for the spring ice breakup and the chance to get underway Through the canyons and the rapids on the Yukon River run Five hundred miles to the North and the goldfields at Dawson
My scow was smashed to splinters and my outfit took the toll At Five Finger Rapids I damn near lost it all Driven on by demons I'll never understand Just to get a little colour in the sluice box or get a little gold in the pan
Chorus
I was there on the “Golden Stairs” and all I do is curse Those who came the Stikine route said it was even worse And those poor lost souls who made the trek overland from Edmonton They left their bones in the muskeg swamp under the Northern Sun
So here's to those who went to hell and lived to tell the tale Of the swamps and mud and black fly blood of a packhorse on the trail Those who never did come back from the gold dust fever dream Whose trail ended long before they ever saw the nuggets gleam
I was there on the stampede trail and I staked my claim But something down inside me died and I'll never be the same When I hear the word “Gold Rush” it makes my blood run cold And even to the very end of the world I would pack right up and go
Chorus
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