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  the Spring of Forty-seven,
 So the story, it  told,
 Old John Sutter went  the mill site
  a piece of shining gold.
 
 Well, he took it  the city
 Where  word, like wildfire, spread.
 And old John Sutter soon came to wish 
 Left that  in the river bed.
 
  they came like herds of locusts
 Every woman, child and 
 In their  Conestogas
 They left their tracks upon the 
 
 Some would fail and some would 
 Some would  and some would kill
  would thank the Lord for their deliverance
 And some would  John Sutter's Mill.
 
 Well, they came from  York City,
 And they came from 
 With their  of finding fortunes
  this wild unsettled land.
 
 Well, some  prey to hostile arrows
  they tried to cross the plains.
 And some were lost in the  Mountains
 With their hands froze  the reins.
 
 Some would fail and some  prosper
 Some would die and  would kill
 Some would thank the Lord for their 
 And some would curse John  Mill.
 
 Well, some pushed  to California
 And others stopped  take their rest.
 And by  Spring of Eighteen-sixty
 They had opened  the west.
 
  then the railroad came behind them
 And  land was plowed and tamed,
 When Old John Sutter went to meet  maker,
 He'd not one penny to  name.
 
 Some would  and some would prosper
 Some would die  some would kill
 Some  thank the Lord for their deliverance
 And some would curse John  Mill.
 
 And some would curse John Sutter's 
 Some men's thirsts are never