"Canyon City Path 1-2388"

Two arrows at the Chilkoot trail head, one almost white, the other almost red.

Two arrows at the Chilkoot trail head -- above the fire weed growin' round, and the waters a commin' down. What kind of water?

Silted up with the minerals, eaten by the ice. Silted up by the minerals eaten by the ice

--- eaten by the ice ---

-- by the ice --

-- by the ice of the glacial heights, long forgotten.


They're melting away, as we'll see someday.


It's the Chilkoot trail head, Chilkoot trail head. Chilkoot all the way.

Chilkoot trail head, waitin' for the day when you'll throw it all away.

Only millionaires and rich men and women with big legs
need to enter here.

Got your expensive boots to clamber over the rocks. Got your special rain gear and your clinging straps

-- your short slurt sleavies and faded chaps.

Unlike the men who went before -- carried boxes on their backs. It was not the luxury of the visitor, but the miner's elvin chore.


Where's the gold?  Hey, where's the gold?
The treasures that Chilkoot hold
would reveal to the first one in, the only one who could get a grin.


-- And the fire weed tells it's tale to the open eye.
The seeds fly out when the winter winds draw nigh.

The winter winds of the Chilcoot trail
on the way to Canyon City
-- the winter winds of the Chilcoot Trail,
far from Skagway's winds that wail
and destroy the wind mill's pieces scattered through the town.


But here, you see the silt of the glaciers drifting down
in the milky waters of Taiya beyond the sign.

-- It's beyond the sign.

-- Beyond the sign.