Gold Rush Brides
Follow the typical signsThe hand-painted linesDown prairie roadsPass the lone church spirePass the talking wireFrom where to who knows
There's no way to divideThe beauty of the skyFrom the wild western plainsWhere a man could driftIn legendary mythBy roaming over spaces
The land was free and the price was right
Dakota on the wallIs a white-robed woman, broadYet maidenlySuch power in her handAs she hails the wagon man'sFamilyI see Indians that crawlThrough this mural that recallsOur history
Who were the homestead wives?Who were the gold rush brides?Does anybody know?Do their works surviveTheir yellow fever livesIn the pages they wrote?
The land was free, yet it cost their lives
In miner's lust for goldA family's house was bought and soldPiece by pieceA widow staked her claimOn a dollar and his nameSo painfullyIn letters mailed back homeHer Eastern sisters, they would moanAs they would readAccounts of madness, childbirth, loneliness and grief