| We fell onto the sidewalk
|
| We fell into the night
|
| We fell about when Sailor Sam
|
| Got caught up in a fight
|
| We raised a glass to liberty
|
| We raised a glass to home
|
| We drank until the daylight
|
| Hands cold as Scrabo stone
|
| There’s gold along the Cariboo
|
| From Lillooet to Lac la Hache
|
| I’m a million miles from Bradshaw’s Brae
|
| From the quarry, dust, and ash
|
| I’d give my arms to see you all
|
| My sight to feel the fire
|
| There’s gold along the Cariboo
|
| And ravens on the wire
|
| It took me years to get my feet warm
|
| Or read the letters sent from home
|
| I’m far away in Fraser Canyon
|
| Where we cut the road from stone
|
| There are friends I’ll never see again
|
| On the darkest street in town
|
| Wooden crosses outside Soda Creek
|
| Mark the ground where I’ll lie down
|
| There’s gold along the Cariboo
|
| From Lillooet to Lac la Hache
|
| I’m a million miles from Bradshaw’s Brae
|
| From the quarry, dust, and ash
|
| I’d give my arms to see you all
|
| My sight to feel the fire
|
| There’s gold along the Cariboo
|
| And ravens on the wire
|
| Tonight I’ll drink my body’s weight
|
| Tonight I’ll use these hands
|
| To fight the voice of reason
|
| That drives me from these lands
|
| There’s nothin' left on Bradshaw’s Brae
|
| Except love and ancient skies
|
| There’s nothin' in my suitcase
|
| Save for hope and long goodbyes
|
| I sailed in search of dignity
|
| I haven’t found it yet
|
| No wealth or fool’s redemption
|
| On the road to Lillooet
|
| But there’s gold along the Cariboo
|
| From Fort Yale to Lac la Hache
|
| I’m a million miles from Bradshaw’s Brae
|
| From the quarry, dust, and ash
|
| I’d give my arms to see you all
|
| My sight to feel the fire
|
| There’s gold along the Cariboo
|
| And ravens on the wire
|
| Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
|
| Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh |