"Days of '49" genre: Bluegrass
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	An Old-timey song about the California Goldrush; Banjo stylings of Charlie "Chaz" Benton add a traditional flair.
	CD: Lucky Like Me   Label: Independent Credits: Words and Music by Rachel Sedacca; Co-Produced by Rachel Sedacca and Jonathan Raffetto; Rachel Sedacca - vocals; Jonathan Raffetto - guitar,vocals; Charlie
	Story Behind the Song Besides that silly dog song, “Days of ‘49” was my first completed work. After struggling for years to write, this song came spilling out after a night in my “History of California” class at Ventura College. One of the credits needed to finish my Bachelor’s degree after leaving Humboldt. We watched a film that night about the men who flooded west for the promise of gold and a better life. I was so moved by their experience, I wanted to reflect it with music. The banjo in the recording gives it that all-American sound. Lyrics This is a story of Patrick Swain, a farmer boy from the east. He heard the word about a big golden pie and was lookin’ for his piece. He left his wife and his baby girl he said “I’ll come back someday”, I met a friend with a word to lend he said a wagon train’s goin’ that way. In the days of ’49, the days of ’49, the days of ‘49’ Lookin for that gold to find, workin’ in a dusty mine. The wheels went around on the cold muddy ground it was a long a rugged road. There was a hopeful man from every place in the land, searchin’ for that mother lode. Many got sick with a shovel and pick, markin’ their final rest. Fightin’ the cold young men got old on the wagon trains out west. In the days of ’49, the days of ’49, the days of ‘49’ Lookin for that gold to find, workin’ in a dusty mine. Patrick’s wagon pulled in they cracked a bottle o’ gin, the vision within their grasp. Little did they know their little town would grow, big dreams of gold wouldn’t last. Forty thousand men had arrived by then, crowded by the river at dawn, With a flash in the pan of every man, some inspiration for keepin’ on. In the days of ’49, the days of ’49, the days of ‘49’ Lookin for that gold to find, workin’ in a dusty mine. As the summer set in Patrick’s spirit grew thin, the river was cloudy and cold. End of the pan here came the businessman with machinery for mining’ gold. Come work for me ‘cause as you can see, you’ll never do it on your own. Your pan and pick just don’t do the trick, I’m gonna blast right through that stone! In the days of ’49, the days of ’49, the days of ‘49’ Lookin for that gold to find, workin’ in a dusty mine. So Patrick and his company gave in to the hunger and pain. Workin like slaves many dug their own graves in the chilly mountain rains. In the dim saloon light on a cold winter night he wrote a letter from his heart. “My darlin’ dear, I just can’t make it here, this illusion has fallen apart.” In the days of ’49, the days of ’49, the days of ‘49’ Lookin for that gold to find, workin’ in a dusty mine. Finally spring blessed the mountain again, pointin’ wagons to the eastern shore. Patrick Swain was on that train, with nothin’ that he came there for. Now he’s found in small New England town turning gray and growing old. He’s tellin’ his story of the big rock quarry and his days of minin’ for gold. In the days of ’49, the days of ’49, the days of ‘49’ Lookin for that gold to find, workin’ in a dusty mine.

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