How dare I take my pen in hand and think of beauty I'll create.
Place it then within a frame, stand back in awe and say, tis great.
Then hang it in a gall-er-y, on a wall for all to see.
As people come from miles around, to stand in awe of me.
...
It was so cold it was bitter, to quit hurt my pride.
If I'd stayed any longer, I surely would have died.
So it's out of the bush and down out of the cold.
I'll wait till next summer, to search for the gold.
...