THE SHADY OLD CAMP (air "BEN BOLT")

Oh, don't you remember the shady old camp,
That stood by the side of the brook,
Where we lay on the ground after many a tramp,
And the fireplace where we uese to cook?
The shady old camp has gone to decay,
And the hambone has droopped from the pin;
The roof and the door both have rotted away,
And the chimney has all tumble in;
The roof and the door both have rotted away,
And the chimney has all tumble in;

Oh don't you remember the cool, summer breeze,
So welcome in June and July,
And the table that stood 'neath the shady oak tres,
At the foot of the mountain so high?
The table is standing, as when we were there,
Though not as we often have seen,
For bushes have grown o'er the ground then so bare,
And miners have worked our ravine.
For bushes have grown o'er the ground then so bare,
And miners have worked our ravine.

Oh, don't you remember the mountains of snow,
In sight from the camp all the year,
And the valleys so green, where the wild flowers grow,
And where we went hunting the deer?
The cool little brook where we used to drink,
Will always be running the same,
As when we were talking of home on the brink,
Or cursing the day that we came.
As when we were talking of home on the brink,
Or cursing the day that we came.

Oh, don't you remember the well-beaten trail,
That led from the camp to the spring,
And the potpies we made of the squirrel and quail,
And the evenings when we used to sing?
The trail and the spring we shall see them no more,
Thought never forget till we die;
The shady old camp, with the ground for a floor,
Forever, we bid thee good-by!
The shady old camp, with the ground for a floor,
Forever, we bid thee good-by!

Notes: These lyrics are found on pp 191-193 of BURL IVES' SONG IN AMERICA: OUR MUSICAL HERITAGE, 1962 A song from the Gold Rush era.