I've traveled all over this country
Prospecting and digging for gold
I've tunneled, hydraulicked and cradled
And I have been frequently sold.

For each man who got rich by mining
I noticed that hundreds grew poor
And I made up my mind to try "booking"
The only pursuit that was sure.

So, rolling my grub in my blanket
I left all my tools on the hole
And started one morning to shank it
For the country they call Idaho.

Arriving flat broke in midwinter
I found it enveloped in snow
And covered all over with mountains
Thick as hair on the back of a sow.

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.

I staked me a claim in the forest
And sat myself down to hard toil
For two years I chopped and I struggled
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

And now that I'm used to the climate
I think that if ever so
A place to live easy and happy
That Eden is called Idaho.

No longer the slave of ambition
I laugh at the world and its crooks
As I think of my pleasant condition
Surrounded by acres of books.