Weary Mike Who Made The Strike At Klondike - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
Weary Mike Who Made the Strike at Klondike. Copyright, 1897. by Wm. E. Slafer & Chas T Ellis. Words by Ed Gardenier. Music by Wm. E Slafer. 
You've often heard of Weary Mike, who's always on the blinc, And dead in love with all hard work, and water. I don't think; You see that individual now all free from care and woe; I'm geared up to the limit with 'most ev'ry kind of dough; I was grub-staked to Alaska when things "began to boom, And I've lived on roasted snow-balls where golden nuggets bloom; I'm back again with gold to melt when riding on my bike; The girls say I'm the ripest peach that ere came down the pike. 
Chorus. I'm weary Mike, the millionaire, full of gold dust ev'rywhere; In me whiskers, in me hair, I'm covered with nuggets bright; There's nothing too good, I've got the price, and that's the thing that cuts the ice; I'm Weary Mike who made the strike at Klondike. 
My gold mine up at Klondike yields two hundred to the pan; It's called, for sake of bygone days, the old tomato can; A tenderfoot he sold it for a quart of Holland gin; It's so chock-full of gold-dust, boys, it's ground into my skin; The boodle that I'm worth to-day I couldn't even hint; My overalls I sold them for live thousand at the mint; At the Walsdorf, where I'm stopping, when through my bath and rub, The servants all get scrapping for the gold dust in the tub.-chorus.