Lament for Miners
Lament on Behalf of the Miners
by Penelope Snow
Bob Dylan once said in a song that he wrote
"The Times they are a changing."
They’ve changed, that’s for sure
The times aren’t what they were
But some changes need rearranging. A long time ago, Mr. Gifford Pinchot Coined a term we’ve all heard, -"conservation"
" for the service of man" was part of his plan,
Their service has become an aberration. In the 70s we called them green pigs and They were, but they took it well and with humor They were part of the town They lived here, cared, and stayed around Back when moving away was just rumor They one day up and left and moved down the road Jackass Flat is a name that seems fittin’
No more is the Forest Service part of the town
And service is not what we’re gittin’.
At best they’re aloof, their presence a spoof
The locals they just seem to hurt Old miners don’t count, they’re just burnin’ them out
Jack Nixon’s old mine…is just proof.
Bob Stuler is next on their list And just in case you don’t get the gist
It means no more "Bacon and Beans from a Goldpan"
The sad day is here, it has become very clear
Uncle Sam is a Cold S.O. B. man.
A custom and culture forcibly killed
And a superfund probably billed
To pay for their mighty endeavor
They haul it away…and then they say
They feel threatened by us……whatever.
If you pay fees for enjoying the trees They probably think you’re alright
Pay your Sierra Club dues, And your green stickers too And they’ll pretend you’re not in their sights.
The wolverine and the trout, they still have some clout And well the animals should
But if you must dwell in the woods
Have a care…it’s understood
They’re coming to kick you out.
Goodbye old miners. Watch out woodcutters. Beware Mountain Bikers. God Bless.
