There's a story of an old mining town
Where the old ones said there was gold to be found
In Mineral Hill,
Where the river meets the ground,
Where that rolling stream will bring all the color rushing down.
Many a woman with her hair all of brown
Went to make her home in that old mining town
Of Mineral Hill,
Where the river meets the ground,
Where that rolling stream will bring all the color rushing down.
And every woman has a ring
Of solid gold,
Every man has a dream,
Or so I'm told,
And the old timers sing of the gold
Of Mineral Hill.
Joshua was a young, well-meanin' man;
Sweet Savanna wore his ring on her hand
To Mineral Hill.
Joshua worked from the dawn till his back was bent,
Savanna spent her days in a tin-panner's tent
On Mineral Hill,
Where the river meets the ground,
Where that rolling stream will bring all the color rushing down.
Then one day she told him the news:
Joshua's child would be born with the mining crews
Of Mineral Hill.
But the love of gold is a powerful thing
And it grows with every pick axe's ring
On Mineral Hill,
Where the river meets the ground,
Where that rolling stream will bring all the color rushing down.
Through the lonely autumn months Savanna grew;
By the winter time the only love that Joshua knew
Was Mineral Hill.
So when the word reached his ears it was too late.
Down by the creek, Joshua clawed at the slate
Of Mineral Hill,
Where the river meets the ground,
Where that rolling stream will bring all the color rushing down.
It was cold when they marked the double grave,
All was silent in a white and barren glade
On Mineral Hill.
Joshua buried, as the old ones stood around,
On love's sweet hand, the only gold to be found
On Mineral Hill,
Where the river meets the ground,
Where that rolling stream will bring all the color rushing down.
And every woman has a ring
Of solid gold,
Every man has a dream,
Or so I'm told,
And the old ones, they still sing of the gold
That Joshua gave up to Mineral Hill.

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