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  the Spring of Forty-seven,
 So  story, it is told,
 Old John Sutter went to the mill 
 Found a piece of shining 
 
 Well, he took it to the 
 Where the word, like  spread.
  old John Sutter soon came to wish he'd
  that stone in the river bed.
 
 For they came like herds of 
 Every woman,  and man
  their lumbering Conestogas
 They left their tracks upon  land.
 
 Some would fail and  would prosper
 Some would die  some would kill
 Some would thank  Lord for their deliverance
 And some would  John Sutter's Mill.
 
 Well, they came from  York City,
 And  came from Alabam'
 With their dreams  finding fortunes
 In  wild unsettled land.
 
 Well, some fell prey to  arrows
  they tried to cross the plains.
 And some were lost in  Rocky Mountains
 With their hands  to the reins.
 
 Some would fail and some would 
  would die and some would kill
 Some would thank the Lord for their 
 And  would curse John Sutter's Mill.
 
 Well, some pushed on to 
 And others  to take their rest.
  by the Spring of Eighteen-sixty
  had opened up the west.
 
 And then the  came behind them
 And the  was plowed and tamed,
 When Old  Sutter went to meet his maker,
  not one penny to his name.
 
 Some would  and some would prosper
 Some would  and some would kill
 Some  thank the Lord for their deliverance
 And some would  John Sutter's Mill.
 
 And some would  John Sutter's Mill
 Some men's thirsts  never filled.