{"id":11585,"date":"2017-09-28T17:26:24","date_gmt":"2017-09-28T17:26:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/georgethomasclark.com\/?p=11585"},"modified":"2018-10-16T04:22:53","modified_gmt":"2018-10-16T04:22:53","slug":"sunday-morning-in-the-mines","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/georgethomasclark.com\/sunday-morning-in-the-mines\/","title":{"rendered":"Sunday Morning in the Mines"},"content":{"rendered":"
Are you looking at my legs? I bet you are because they\u2019re the best damn legs of anyone in Sunday Morning in the Mines. I know you wonder how my pants, held high by my chest, got those big holes. I don\u2019t remember and don\u2019t want to after another six days digging for gold in the high Sierra. Saturday nights I forget I\u2019ve been here long enough to know I won\u2019t get rich but have to keep trying because there\u2019s nothing else to do. <\/p>\n
\tThose three guys to your left, reading the bible, aren\u2019t hungover but they didn\u2019t have much fun last night, and neither did the boss in the cabin, writing his loot into the company book. That guy in the white shirt sure enjoyed himself and continues this morning as two buddies hold him up. Behind them solemn old Jim, or whatever his name is, puffs a cigar and stares into mountains. Further left four rough guys ride through camp, one taking a switch to his horse and another taking a switch to him. I reckon they\u2019re headed up the hill far left where several guys dance and roughhouse under a cabin canopy. <\/p>\n
\tFront and center our wooden mining cradles rest by a dying fire. Maybe painter Charles Christian Nahl should put down his fancy brush and look for some gold. <\/p>\n