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
Heâd left that stone
in the river bed
Well they came
like herds of locusts
Every woman
child and man
In their
lumbering Conestogas
They left their tracks
upon the land
Some would fail
And some would prosper
Some would die
And some would kill
Some would thank the Lord
for their deliverance
And some would curse
John Sutterâs mill
Well, they came
from New York City
And they came
from Alabamâ
With their dreams
of finding fortunes
In this wild
unsettled land
Some fell prey
to hostile arrows
As they tried
to cross the plains
Some were lost
in the Rocky Mountains
With their hands
froze to the reins
Oh, some would fail
And some would prosper
Some would die
And some would kill
Some would thank the Lord
for their deliverance
Some would curse
John Sutterâs mill
Some pushed
on to California
Others stopped
to take their rest
And by the spring
of eighty six
They had opened
up the West
Then the railroad
came behind them
And the land
was plowed and tamed
When Old John Sutter
went to meet his maker
Heâd not one penny
to his name
Oh, some would fail
And some would prosper
Some would die
And some would kill
Some would thank the Lord
for their deliverance
And some would curse
John Sutterâs mill
And some would curse
John Sutterâs Mill
And some menâs thirsts
are never filled
