In the Spring of Forty-seven, So the story, it is told, Old John Sutter went to the mill site Found a piece of shining gold. Well, he took it to the city Where the word, like wildfire, spread. And old John Sutter soon came to wish he'd Left that stone in the river bed. For they came like herds of locusts Every woman, child and man In their lumbering Conestogas They left their tracks upon …
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