HAPPY THANKSGIVING

HISTORIC HANGTOWN CRICK

It was many and many a year ago

Along an old stagecoach road,

A gold camp flourished in the snow,

In the heart of the mother lode.

Soon the whole place went to heck,

And loath to call a truce,

They stretched a couple careless necks

With a crudely fashioned noose.

So the gold camp grew in infamy.

Notoriety done the trick!

And soon the little ditch was known

As historic Hangtown crick.

The camp was christened Hangtown too,

In memory of the dead,         

And far and wide her legend grew

As the lawless place them fellas wound up dead.

Soon folks rushed in from shore to shore

To pan the muddy street,

With Hangtown renowned for evermore

As the place to come to see them swingin’ feet.

The city fathers deemed it wise

To spread the gold camp’s fame.

Soon gold aplenty became the prize,

And emptying tourists pockets became the game.

When delicate womenfolk arrived,

The name Hangtown give ‘em grief.

So a brand new name was soon contrived,

In the hope it might provide the men relief.

Ravine City was considered

But the womenfolk groaned still,

So at last the city fathers

Changed the name to Placerville.

The little metropolis grew and grew

And the townsfolk, being thrifty,

Began providing gasoline

To the motorists they could lure from highway 50.

Flatlanders now are welcome

Despite what you may hear.

And we very rarely hang one.

With ropes now coiled, we count each tourist dear.

So if you’d like to live on beans

Out west where skies are sunny,

Check out Old Hangtown by all means,

And just to play it safe, bring lots of money.

SC