X: 1
T:Starving to Death on my Government Claim
C:Trad: Irish Washerwoman
S:Digital Tradition, irishwsh
D:Recorded by Ives
Z:dt:irishwsh
M:6/8
L:1/8
Q:3/8=100
W:My name is Frank Bolar, an old bach'lor I am
W:I'm keeping old batch on an elegant plan,
W:You'll find me out west in the County of Lane
W:Starving to death on my government claim.
W:My house it is built of the national soil
W:The walls are erected according to Hoyle,
W:The roof has no pitch, but is level and plane
W:And I never get wet till it happens to rain.
W:
W:Then hurrah for Lane County, the land of the free
W:The home of the bedbug, mosquito and flea,
W:I'll sing loud her praises and never complain
W:While starving to death on my government claim.
W:
W:My clothes they are ragged, my language is rough,
W:My bread is case-hardened, both solid and tough;
W:The dough it is scattered all over the room
W:And the floor would take fright at the sight of a broom.
W:My dishes are dirty, and some in the bed
W:Are covered with sorghum and government bread;
W:But I have a good time and I live at my ease
W:On common-sop sorghum, old bacon and grease.
W:
W:Then hurrah for Lane County, the land of the West
W:Where the farmers and laborers are always at rest;
W:Where you've nothing to do but sweetly remain
W:And starve like a man on your government claim.
W:
W:How happy am I when I crawl into bed
W:And a rattlesnake rattles a tune at my head;
W:And the gay little centipede, void of all fear
W:Crawls over my pillow ind into my ear.
W:And the nice little bedbug, so cheerful and bright
W:Keeps me a-scratching full half of the night,
W:And the gay little flea with toes sharp as a tack
W:Plays "why don't you catch me?" all over my back.
W:
W:But hurrah for Lane County, where blizzards arise
W:Where the winds never cease and the flea never dies;
W:Where the sun is so hot if in it you remain,
W:'Twill burn you quite black on your government claim.
W:
W:How happy am I on my government claim,
W:Where I've nothing to lose and nothing to gain;
W:Nothing to eat and nothing to wear,
W:Nothing from nothing is honest and square.
W:But here I am stuck, and here I must stay
W:My money's all gone, and I can't get away;
W:There's nothing to make a man hard and profane
W:Like starving to death on a government claim.
W:
W:Then come to Lane County, there's room for you all
W:Where the winds never cease and the rains never fall.
W:Come join in the chorus, and boast of her fame
W:While starving to death on your government claim.
W:Now don't get discouraged, you poor hungry men,
W:We're all here as free as a pig in a pen;
W:Just stick to your homestead and battle your fleas
W:And pray to your Maker to send you a breeze.
W:
W:Now a word to claim holders who are bound for to stay
W:You may chew on your hardtack till you're toothless and gray;
W:But as for me, I'll no longer remain
W:And starve like a dog on my government claim.
W:Then farewell to Lane County, farewell to the West
W:I'll travel back East to the girl I love best;
W:I'll stop in Missouri and get me a wife
W:And live on corn dodgers the rest of my life.
K:C
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