Barkerville

There is a little town where once they mined for gold. now it's just a tourist place, where stories are retold. Like the one about the miners, who where both on their death bed. Well, one he bet the other he'd out live this friend call Fred. As the clock stuck midnight, poor old Ed he passed away, And his old miner friend he lived another day. Now both these two old fellas lay up on old boot hill, And the story it lives on, and we hear it ever still. Now as you walk the pathways that the miners use to tread, You see the lovely forget me knots, And hear the voices of the dead. You hear them whisper gentle,though the needles of the pine, as they walk and talk together about another time. Yes, they walk and talk together about the days of long ago, and you wish that you'd been with them, so your story too, could be tole.