1.Dutchman's Gold
Lyricist：Jerry Neal Capehart
Dutchman's gold
Oh, Dutchman's gold
In The Arizona desert
Stands a giant of earth and stone
Mighty Superstiyion Mountain
With it's mystery and it's gold
A miner, out prospectin'
Found his fortune and his fame
Found the gold of superstition
Just plain Dutchman, was his name
Oh, the Dutchman was a gambler
And a party was his fun
But he kept his precious secret
Never trusting anyone
And in death, he still is laughing
For the grave his secret holds
And the mighty superstition
Keeps the Dutchman's yellow gold
Yellow gold
Mighty superstition mountain
Standing high and all alone
Once you told your precious secret
And you gave your soft, pure gold
'Pache Indians know the story
And in legend there is told
Many tales of the beginnin'
When you gave your yellow gold
Now I'd like to dream and wonder
If someday you'll give again
The bounty of your treasure
To some lonely, strugglin' man
And if you, in all your splender
May choose me to be the one
To find your precious treasure
Shinin' yella, in the sun
Oh, the Dutchman was a gambler
And a party was his fun
But he kept his precious secret
Never trusting anyone
And in death, he still is laughing
For the grave his secret holds
And the mighty superstition
Keeps the Dutchman's yellow gold
Yellow gold
Yellow gold
Yellow gold
Dutchman's gold
2.Mama Sang A Song
Vocals：the Johnny Mann Singers
Written：Bill Anderson
(GOD PUT A SONG IN THE HEART OF AN ANGEL, AND SOFTLY SHE SANG IT
TO ME.)
I GET TO THINKING LOTS OF TIMES ABOUT BACK WHEN I WAS A LAD,
OF THE OLD HOME-PLACE WHERE I GROWED UP;
OF THE DAYS BOTH GOOD AND BAD.
MY OVERALLS WAS HAND-ME-DOWNS,
MY SHOES WAS FULL OF HOLES,
AND I USED TO WALK FOUR MILES TO SCHOOL EVERY DAY,
THOUGH THE RAIN AND THE SLEET AND THE COLD.
I'VE SEEN THE NIGHTS WHEN MY DADDY WOULD CRY
FOR THE THINGS THAT HIS FAMILY WOULD NEED,
BUT ALL HE EVER GOT WAS A BAD-LAND FARM
AND SEVEN HUNGRY MOUTHS TO FEED,
AND YET...AND YET, OUR HOME-FIRE NEVER FLICKERED ONCE,
'CAUSE WHEN ALL THESE THINGS WENT WRONG,
MAMA TOOK THE HYMN-BOOK DOWN, AND MAMA SANG A SONG.
(WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS...)
I BEEN ROCKED TO SLEEP MANY A NIGHT
TO THE TUNE OF 'WHAT A FRIEND'; COME MORNING,
'ROCK OF AGES WOULD WAKEN ME GENTLY ONCE AGAIN.
THEN DAD, HE'D REACH UP AND TAKE THE BIBLE DOWN
AND READ IT, READ IT LOUD AND LONG.
I ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT MAYBE OUR HOME WAS BLEST
WHEN DADDY WOULD SAY, 'MAMA, SING A SONG.'
SISTER LEFT HOME FIRST, I GUESS,
THEN BOB AND THEN TOMMY AND THEN DAN.
THEN DAD'S HAIR WAS TURNIN？WHITE --
'N I HAD TO BE MAMA'S LITTLE MAN.
BUT IT SEEMED THAT AS DADDY'S BACK GROWED WEAK,
MOTHER'S FAITH JUST GROWED STRONG.
AND THEM WERE THE GREATEST DAYS OF ALL, WHEN MAMA SANG A SONG.
(ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME.
LET ME HIDE MYSELF IN THEE.)
OOH OOH OOH (Through Recitation)
I GUESS THE HOUSE IS STILL STANDING; I DON'T GET BACK MUCH NO
MORE.
NO VOICE IS LEFT TO FILL THEM HALLS,
'N NO STEPS TO GRACE THE FLOOR.
YOU SEE, MY MAMA SINGS IN HEAVEN NOW,
AROUND GOD'S GOLDEN THRONE.
BUT I'LL ALWAYS BELIEVE THIS WORLD
IS A BETTER PLACE BECAUSE...ONE TIME...MY MAMA...SANG... A SONG.
(PRECIOUS MEMORIES FILL MY SOUL...) From： 'Roy T. O'Conner'
3.Old Rivers
Words：Crofford (that's all I wrote at the time I transcribed it
-- years ago)
Music：Crofford (that's all I wrote at the time I transcribed it
-- years ago)
Walter Brennan
HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE I FIRST SEEN OLD RIVERS？
WHY, I CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN HE WEREN'T AROUND.
WELL, THAT OLD MAN DID A HEAP OF WORK;
SPENT HIS WHOLE LIFE WALKING PLOWED GROUND.
HE HAD A ONE-ROOM SHACK NOT FAR FROM US,
AND WE WAS ABOUT AS POOR AS HIM.
HE HAD ONE OLD MULE HE CALLED 'MIDNIGHT',
AND I'D TAG ALONG AFTER THEM.
HE'D PLOW THEM ROWS STRAIGHT AND DEEP
AND I'D TAG ALONG BEHIND,
BUSTIN' UP CLODS WITH MY OWN BARE FEET --
OLD RIVERS WAS A FRIEND OF MINE.
THAT SUN WOULD GET HIGH AND THAT MULE WOULD WORK
TILL OLD RIVERS'D SAY, 'WHOA!'
THEN HE'D WIPE HIS BROW, LEAN BACK IN THE REINS,
AND TALK ABOUT A PLACE HE WAS GONNA GO.
(CHORUS)
SAY, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GONNA CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN;
WALK UP THERE AMONG THEM CLOUDS,
WHERE THE COTTON'S HIGH AND THE CORN'S A-GROWIN',
AND THERE AIN'T NO FIELDS TO PLOW.
I GOT A LETTER FROM BACK HOME THE OTHER DAY --
THEY'RE ALL FINE, AND THE CROPS IS HIGH --
AND DOWN AT THE END MY MAMA SAID,
'YOU KNOW, OLD RIVERS DIED.'
I'M JUST SITTING HERE ON THIS NEW-PLOWED EARTH,
TRYIN' TO FIND ME A LITTLE SHADE.
AND WITH THE SUN BEATING DOWN, 'CROSS THE FIELD I SEE
THAT MULE, OLD RIVERS...AND ME
(repeat CHORUS) From： 'Roy T. O'Conner'
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