June of ‘78
Who are you, so arrayed
On the banks of the Lake Adair?
Pale lacuna agape—
But like the moon in the lake
You are not there
My poor canary

At uncertain behest
Maggie’d blown to the west
In a shimmering dust of gold
With her pale yellow hair
They would call her ‘Canary’
And I loved my Maggie so
And that is all you need to know

But women here ain’t ever glad,—
Not even Emma Nevada
Coming back to share her wedding cake!—
Women hеre ain’t ever free
(and Emma nеver left!); we never leave;
We never last, we never ask, we never stake
A claim, or complain, or take

Not till I made a play
For a parcel that lay
On the Amador county line
Had a notion that I’d
Find employ by-and-by
At the Lonesome Willow Mine
But they don't enlist my kind
In the meantime—
Set to prospecting where I was able
And laying my Maggie a table
And when it was warm, we would pan;
When it stormed, play Vingt-et-Un
And when it was cold, they’d come sniffing, with gold in their hands!

On and on and again
On and on and again
You do what you can

Take a eighth of an ounce in allowance for a dance, only a dance
If you're alone and abandoned and cast aside, you know the pastor tried in vain to ask her hand;
Even he!— well, everybody did

And I had a plan
But they had to sign away my mine
And the deed left us free to scrape and bleed and go to seed and never marry
Not canary, canary, canary, canary, canary, canary, canary, canary, canary, canary...

In the spring of that year
When the tinker was here
Gals would hire him to mend their tin
I heard ‘em swarm from afar
Like a storm in a jar
Like a choir of cherubim
Singing hymn, hymn, hymns—
—whispering, Maggie had gone
Must have skipped with someone!
Sounded wrong, though it did seem fair
April turned into May
And I looked every day for you, Maggie
Till I heard they found the whore with the golden hair
On the shores of the Lake Adair

On the sluice she was spread
Loose, and languid, and dead
From the kindness that she had shown
Still she told me her tale
Lifting veil after veil
To expose a grin upon
My yellow rose[?] and the lowing blow

And though I longed to believe
As I muddied my sleeve
And I studied the wicked [hap?]
And I longed to revive
She was never alive, but by the grace, and the will, and the wheel, and the yen
And the wickedness of men!

But what to do then?
I hauled myself up from the shore, and
I called at the door of the foreman
I told him and he laughed!
So, alas, there was savagery then!
Left a hole in his heart you could roll
A cabbage in! (A cabbage?!) (Oh no, no! Just a little one, Maggie! Just a little one!)
On and on and again
’til they saw what I am
And I am never done. I am never done

Went inside for the light
Got a paper and a pen
Where to begin?

Do you sue for the rights, route for the strike
Through the alluvium to where it heeds
For putting to the end of the lure of the deed
The noose on a live oak tree bent over the saloon tent and meant for
Me and Maggie!

And though it wasn’t him,—
It could’ve been him—
Or anyone who had done
What I know so many men intended when they came or went; They came and went
So arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant, arrogant...

Held a cloth to my hands
Taking stock of my plans
Well, there was something I had to make right
I took his old buggy whip
And I lowered a skip
In the glow of the sodium lights
With a load of dynamite

Maggie said, “I am here.”
And with a touch of [?]
After thirty years down in the mines
"Help me lead out the mules
Help me free the poor fools
Let them see for the very first time
They were blind, blind, blind”

Then we rode for the rift
And we bent genuflect
And she opened her neck like a scrim
I saw the Father appear;
Heard her sob in my ear
Like a mob of cherubim
Howling, “Him! Him!
It was him!”
It was him

So I threw a charge down the shaft
In a cart with the pastor who spat and evangelized
He was the last and the worst
Canary always goes first
To sing where the waters rise
Hear her sing. (Go on now, Maggie!)—

”On and on, on and on, on and on and again
And on and on
On and on and again!
On and on and again!”

Then a knock on the wall
And a knock and they all fall in
And down and in
And down and in

And they pass away
But they pass it on like a baton
Down in the mine
And so they return

Pull the pumps, fill the sumps [?????] something they will never learn
They will never learn
And even if the churn drill, and the stamp mill, and the Pelton wheel
And the smoking furnace, all a’burning, overturning, learn 'em
She will never breathe
The air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again, air again...

Like the screech of a flare
Or like they’re reaching for air
Beneath the smothering eiderdown
Veins of gold still outstretch
In a silent arrest
For miles and miles around
And if I’m underground

Then let me join in that line
And let me toil in that mine
Let me find what is hiding there
Let me dig where I durst
Let me drink when I thirst
And let me breathe the peril air[?]
And breathe for my canary
And breathe;

Let me breathe
Let me breathe for my canary
Breathe for my canary, canary, canary
Breathe for my—
(canary always calls first!)
Breathe for my canary, canary, canary, canary
Breathe for my—
(canary always calls first!)
Breathe for my canary, canary, canary, canary
Breathe for my—
(canary always calls first!)
Breathe for my canary, canary, canary, canary...