Cy Warman wrote that, Russ, when he was running the "Creede Chronicle".
Here's a land where all are equal
Of high or lowly birth --
A land where men make millions
Dug from the dreary earth.
Here meek and mild-eyed burros
On mineral mountains feed.
It's day all day in the day-time
And there is no night in Creede.
The cliffs are solid silver
With wonderous wealth untold.
And the beds of running rivers
Are lined with the purest gold.
While the world is filled with sorrow,
And hearts must break and bleed,
It's day all day in the day-time
And there is no night in Creede.