I’ve traveled all over this country Prospecting and digging for gold; I’ve tunneled, hydraulicked and cradled, And I have been frequently sold ���
 And I have been frequently so-o-old, And I have been frequently sold: I’ve tunneled, hydraulicked and cradled, And I have been frequently sold! 
For one who gained riches by mining, Perceiving that hundreds grew poor, I made up my mind to try farming, The only pursuit that was sure ���
 The only pursuit that was su-u-ure, The only pursuit that was sure, I made up my mind to try farming, The only pursuit that was sure! 
So, rolling my grub in my blanket, I left all my tools on the ground And started one morning to shank it For the country they call Puget Sound ���
 For the country they call Puget Sou-ou-ound, For the country they call Puget Sound, I started one morning to shank it For the country they call Puget Sound. 
Arriving flat broke in midwinter, I found the land shrouded in fog And covered all over with timber Thick as hairs on the back of a dog ���
 Thick as hairs on the back of a do-o-og, Thick as hairs on the back of a dog ��� And covered all over with timber Thick as hairs on the back of a dog! 
When I looked on the prospects so gloomy, The tears trickled over my face And I thought that my travels had brought me To the end of the jumping-off place!
 To the end of the jumping-off pla-a-ace, To the end of the jumping-off place: I thought that my travels had brought me To the end of the jumping-off place. 
I staked me a claim in the forest, And sat myself down to hard toil: For six years I chopped and I labored, But I never got down to the soil ��� 
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 But I never got down to the soi-oi-oil, I never got down to the soil: For six years I chopped and I labored, But I never got down to the soil! 
I tried to get out of the country, But poverty forced me to stay ��� Until I became an old settler, Then nothing could drive me away!
 Then nothing could drive me away-ay-ay, Then nothing could drive me away! Until I became an old settler ��� Then nothing could drive me away! 
And now that I’m used to the climate, I think that if a man ever found A place to live easy and happy, That Eden is on Puget Sound ���
 That Eden is on Puget Sou-ou-ound, That Eden is on Puget Sound ��� A place to live easy and happy? That Eden is on Puget Sound! 
No longer the slave of ambition, I laugh at the world and its shams As I think of my pleasant condition, Surrounded by acres of clams ���
 Surrounded by acres of cla-a-ams, Surrounded by acres of clams, As I think of my happy condition, Surrounded by acres of clams! 
file from: www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
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