I went digging for gold
I went down to the valley
Over by the mountain
Where the prospektor had been told
I'm marching through the cold
I'm marching through the cold
I went digging for gold
I went down with my brother
A bucket and a shovel
And a book about the colour of coal
I'm marching through the cold
We're marching through the cold
There's a tiny little crackle on the telephone line
Saying: ''What use the metal if the metal don't shine?''
She said: ''Bring me back a diamond 'cause I really want one.''
Now I been digging so long that I never see the sun
I went digging for gold
I went down to the valley
Over by the mountain
Where the prospektor had been told
I'm marching through the cold
We're marching through the cold
There's a tiny little crackle on the telephone line
Saying: ''What use the metal if the metal don't shine?''
She said: ''Bring me back a diamond
(ring)
'cause I really want one.''
Now I been digging so long that I never see the sun
Now I been digging so long that I never see the sun
Now I been digging so long that I never see the sun.
Writer(s): Jonathan Mark Buckland, Christopher Anthony John Martin, William Champion, Guy Rupert Berryman
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