Pockets of Gold

(song lyric)

Pockets of Gold

Thomas Rockhill gazed at

The streets below,

At miners and murderers

He came to know,

He buttoned his coat

And he faced the cold,

To stroll through town

With pockets of gold.

He had pockets of gold

He had nerves of steel,

A hard-earned fortune

He had to conceal,

Didn't trust his luck

To the banks, were told,

So he walked through town

With pockets of gold.

Back then in Nevada in

Those White Pine Hills,

They drank their lunch

From a whiskey still,

Forty men died from

Murders untold,

But never the man

With pockets of gold.

He had pockets of gold

He had nerves of steel,

A hard-earned fortune

He had to conceal,

Didn't trust his luck

To the banks, were told,

So he walked through town

With pockets of gold.

p.s. In case you are a member of a Bluegrass, Folk, or Western group (or know someone who is) and might be interested in co-writing, please let me know.  This lyric has already been recorded and released, but I have a lot that haven't. dennisgoodwin1947@gmail.com