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There’s no respect for youth or age
On board the California stage,
But pull and haul about the seats
As bed-bugs do about the sheets.
They started as a thieving line
In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;
All opposition they defy,
So the people must root hog or die.
You’re crowded in with Chinamen,
As fattening hogs are in a pen;
And what will more a man provoke
Is musty plug tobacco smoke.
The ladies are compelled to sit
With dresses in tobacco spit;
The gentlemen don’t seem to care,
But talk on politics and swear.
They started as a thieving line
In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;
All opposition they defy,
So the people must root hog or die.
The drivers, when they feel inclined,
Will have you walking on behind,
And on your shoulders lug a pole
To help them out some muddy hole.
They promise when your fare you pay,
“You’ll have to walk but half the way”;
Then add aside, with cunning laugh,
“You’ll have to push the other half.”
They started as a thieving line
In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;
All opposition they defy,
So the people must root hog or die