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A Handful Of Gold - Bryan Adams
Lyrics by：Bryan Adams
Composed by：Bryan Adams
Produced by：Bryan Adams
I felt the fever burnin' in my veins
Packed my bags for the freezing rains
On the steamship Islander with all its crew
Hundreds of miles from everything we knew
Working the sluice every day and night
Panning the river under northern lights
Up the Chilkoot - where the frost grows deep
One thousand stairs that the devil keeps
A ton of gear on a broken back
There's no turning home - its a one way track
Oh, there's yellow in the river - there's fire in the sky
We're digging for the glory before we have to die
From the Fraser's mouth to the Klondike's cold
We're selling our souls - for a handful of gold
My hands are cracked and my boots are thin
Where the ice ends - the mud begins
I've panned all day - ‘til my fingers froze
For a bit of dust where the cold river flows
The merchants are rich - the miners are poor
But we're still knocking on fortune's door
Oh, there's yellow in the river - there's fire in the sky
We're digging for the glory before we have to die
From the Fraser's mouth to the Klondike's cold
We're selling our souls - for a handful of gold
They don't tell you ‘bout the quiet nights
Or the men who lost their minds to the sights
No names on the crosses in the permafrost
Or a tally of the lives that the glitter cost
Just a handful of gold
One more pan - one more day
And maybe - a handful of gold
