The great railroad stretched like a ribbon behind me
Where two rails meet at the golden horizon
Before me the great western plain beneath the sun's flail
Every day drawing me toward the great western sea.
This letter comes to you, my love
From a remote camp beside the river
On whose banks people have lived for ten thousand years
The great stream beneath the mountain is called Athabaska.
My unlearned hands cannot put pen to paper
But there' s a young Irishman in the gang who'll do it for the price of two bottles
Believe me that all my longing thoughts flow through it
As the flooding tears that flow from my eyes.
Do you remember Se�n Mhich�l Fhada, from the edge of the shore?
He'll never be seen again with a mountain on his head.
And P�id�n, who could even woo the stones with his music,
A can of nitro blew up in hands, and he's gone forever.
I am earning a dollar a day in the crew
With God's help, I'll send you the fare within the year
I'll lose not a penny on gambling, whiskey or beer
But save every coin faithfully till my love comes.
The days go by and I am without my sweetheart
Cutting tunnels through the mountains and laying track
The land here is like a virgin in which a plough has never been driven
Without mark of spade, without landlord, fence or rent.
They say it won't be long before our work is done
And we'll all get a nice piece of land in a few months
I'm longing for the day when you are at my side once again
And I hear your voice as I lie in my bed at night.
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