The Happy Miner, I'm a happy miner,
I'm a happy miner,
I love to sing and dance.
I wonder what my love would say
If she could see my pants
With canvas patches on my knees
And one upon the stern?
I'll wear them when I'm digging here
And home when I return.
So I get in a jovial way,
I spend my money free.
And I've got plenty!
Will you drink lager beer with me?
She writes about her poodle dog;
But never thinks to say,
"Oh, do come home, my honey dear,
I'm pining all away."
I'll write her half a letter,
Then give the ink a tip.
If that don't bring her to her milk
I'll coolly let her rip.
They wish to know if I can cook
And what I have to eat,
And tell me should I take a cold
Be sure and soak my feet.
But when they talk of cooking
I'm mighty hard to beat,
I've made ten thousand loaves of bread
The devil couldn't eat.
I like a lazy partner
So I can take my ease,
Lay down and talk of golden home,
As happy as you please;
Without a thing to eat or drink,
Away from care and grief,—
I'm fat and sassy, ragged, too,
And tough as Spanish beef.
No matter whether rich or poor,
I'm happy as a clam.
I wish my friends at home could look
And see me as I am.
With woolen shirt and rubber boots,
In mud up to my knees,
And lice as large as chili beans
Fighting with the fleas.
I'll mine for half an ounce a day,
Perhaps a little less;
But when it comes to China pay
I cannot stand the press.
Like thousands there, I'll make a pile,
If I make one at all,
About the time the allied forces