A Poor Breakfast but a Good Dinner
T’was on a Winters evening, my daily toils were done
and as within, my tent so thin, I thought myself alone
I laid me down upon my bed, to sleep I was not willing
for what I’d spent, and what I’d lent, I’d only one last shilling
The next days grub I had to get, but how I did not know
I could not prig, I’ll have to dig, to some gully I must go
at the bottom of the Sheep Wash Creek I think there’s something yet
so with my cradle, if I’m able, I’ll try what I can get
The morning came, and with the dawn, I started with good will
to try to find, those things that shined, my belly soon to fill
Twelve hoppers, yes, or more went through, but very little gold
stopped on the slide, and then I sighed, for I was wet and cold
The next one now, I did begin, though I was getting thinner
I want the price of something nice in fact I want my dinner
and now into the slide again fix my anxious stare
and to my surprise, before my eyes, little nuggets thick lay there
Another and another, I’ve hit the spot I see
and in an hour, or little more, I had of ounces three
so to the nearest restaurant, I went you may be sure
and since that day, I safe can say I never was so poor
Edward Yeates