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Dust always blowing about the town, Except when sea-fog laid it down, And I was one of the children told Some
of the blowing dust was gold.
All the dust the wind blew high Appeared like gold in the sunset sky, But I was
one of the children told Some of the dust was really gold.
Such was life in the Golden Gate: Gold dusted all
we drank and ate, And I was one of the children told, 'We all must eat our peck of gold
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