His legs were bowed, his back was bent, his skin was leather brown.
No one knew how old he was, seem he's always been around.

His hands were scared, his fingers gnarled from working with a pick.
Either digging in a mountain side or panning in a creek.

He came to town looking for a stake, to try and find the mother lode.
He knew it had to be very close to one of the trails he rode.

He hasn't found his fortune yet, perhaps he never will.
It won't be because he didn't try, he's out there digging still.

You see, the fortune that he seeks, is not in the finding of the gold.
The searching is worth so much more than all the mother lode.