Crow Creek

Imagine a gold vein reacquired Imagine bedding down cold and tired In a tent beside the sluice boxes Of Crow Creek, listening to foxes Whilst also keeping a watch for bear Looking for that precious of metals rare Where men blasted away hills and banks Damming these rivers with rough-cut planks To fill their coffers by the riverbanks Imagine once a time when ranks Of men with desperate panning souls Waded like sad, sorrowful voles. With what we'd coin now as begging bowls It wasn't fun in these hellholes? Alaska isn't easy on busied knees. Its riches don't do much to please.