Fool's Mine

Listen to the Song

Read the Words

A Fool's Mine in Tombstone

Now gather 'round, cowpokes, I'll spin you a tale,  
'Bout a fella named Jed with a dream doomed to fail.  
With pickaxe in hand and a glint in his eye,  
He swore he'd strike silver or at least he would try.  

He rode into Tombstone one hot afternoon,  
Claimin' he'd hit paydirt by the rise of the moon.  
"These hills are just oozin' with riches!" he said,  
But most folks just chuckled and shook their ol' heads.  

He staked out a claim by the creek bed alone,  
With visions of nuggets as big as a stone.  
He dug and he dug, till his back near gave out,  
Sweat pourin' like rivers, but silver? No doubt!  

Old Jed hollered loud when his pick gave a clink,  
"I've found me a fortune!" (Or so he did think).  
He pulled out a rock, heavy, dark, and profound—  
But one sniff revealed it was night-soil he found.  

Turns out poor ol' Jed, with his grand silver quest,  
Had dug near the privies, not quite to the west.  
While searchin' for treasure, he'd mined a foul fate,  
Struck gold from the outhouses, smelly and great!  

So the lesson, dear miners, is plain as the sky:  
Watch where ya stake claims or you're diggin' a lie.  
In Tombstone, the riches are tricky to find,  
And sometimes a fool's mine ain't the silverin' kind.