Dick and Carol Holdstock -
San Francisco Shanties and Sea Songs of California"s Gold Rush with Tom Murphey
Oh California
I come from Salem City with my washbowl on my knee,
I'm going to California the gold dust for to see.
It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry,
The sun so hot I froze to death, oh brother, don't you cry.
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
I jumped aboard the largest ship and traveled on the sea,
And every time I thought of home, I wished it wasn't me!
The vessel reared like any horse that had of oats a wealth,
I found it wouldn't throw me, so I thought I'd throw myself!
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
I thought of all the pleasant times we've had together here,
And I thought I ought to cry a bit, but I could not find a tear.
The pilot's bread was in my mouth, the gold dust in my eye,
And though I'm going far away, dear brother, don't you cry.
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
And when I get to Frisco boys, then I'll look around,
And when I see the golden lumps there, I'll pick them off the ground.
I'll scrape the mountains clean, my boys, I'll drain the rivers dry,
A pocketful of rocks bring home, so brothers, don't you cry.
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
I'm going to California the gold dust for to see.
It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry,
The sun so hot I froze to death, oh brother, don't you cry.
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
I jumped aboard the largest ship and traveled on the sea,
And every time I thought of home, I wished it wasn't me!
The vessel reared like any horse that had of oats a wealth,
I found it wouldn't throw me, so I thought I'd throw myself!
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
I thought of all the pleasant times we've had together here,
And I thought I ought to cry a bit, but I could not find a tear.
The pilot's bread was in my mouth, the gold dust in my eye,
And though I'm going far away, dear brother, don't you cry.
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
And when I get to Frisco boys, then I'll look around,
And when I see the golden lumps there, I'll pick them off the ground.
I'll scrape the mountains clean, my boys, I'll drain the rivers dry,
A pocketful of rocks bring home, so brothers, don't you cry.
Oh, California, that's the land for me,
I'm off for San Francisco with my washbowl on my knee.
Credits
Writer(s): Traditional, Lynn Brinckmeyer
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2025 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.