He look around him,
A few berries and some roots,
It was just enough.
The sun was rising,
High and hot into the sky,
Making things go hide.
The gold was in holes,
Just on old shirt as a bag,
He dumped them in holes.
He put about half,
A lot of gold in the shirt,
To limit its weight.
The path to the plain,
Or plateau, was up and down,
With thick forest growth.
Some rocky outcrops,
Within the forest looked good,
As a hiding place.
He had taken three,
Shirtfuls to this location,
When he had to stop.
He had heard a shot,
He made his way to loook out,
From the cliff top edge.
Below was a ship,
Anchored just off the shore line,
On shore a small boat.
A large man barked out,
Get a move on, move it scum,
He waved a pistol.
Some others took stuff,
Into the cave in boxes,
They didn’t come out,
There were some shots fired,
And two men came out the cave,
Carrrying a box.
Maybe a gold box,
Now filled with sand, did they know?
They got in the boat,
They rowed to the ship,
Hauling the box up to the deck,
But was not opened.
