I went digging for gold
Down by the river
Over by the mountain
Where the prospector had been told
I’m marching through the cold
We’re marching through the cold
I went digging for gold
I went down with my brother
A bucket and a shovel
And a book about the colour of coal
I’m marching through the cold
We’re marching through the cold
There’s a tiny little crackle on the telephone line
Saying, “What use the metal if the metal don’t shine?”
She said, “Bring me back a diamond ring cause I really want one”
Now I been digging so long that I never see the sun