1849-   A Golden Child is Born
From the Book "Seasons Greetings from the Old West" 
By Craig MacDonald


In the good old days when '49ers 
Thought of little else than gold;
'Twas then a woman in the camp
They rarely did behold.


It must not be surprising if,
Indulging in a tramp,
They did gaze with joy and wonder 
At the First babe in camp.


Here you see an honest fellow.
Excitement in his eyes,
Gazing on the little darling
As it for mama cries.
Its little arms uplifted tells
It wants in plaintive notes;
While the mother, with smiling face,
Upon her loved one dotes.


'Tis a scene of joy and pleasure,
A reminder of the past,
To those honest, rustic fellows
Who from home and dear ones cast;
Found a refuge where blessed nature
Had kept for them in store,
Many a glorious fortune
In the good old days of yore.


The baby in the camp of then
Was a source of much delight,
It made them think of dear old home
Ere from they took their flight.


In many a heart still lingers,
Impressions of that tramp,
When the good old honest miner
Saw the first babe in camp.



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