Over periods of time people have taken their told,
Some in search for gold,
Some because they were bold,
Some for reasons that were never told.
A large lake, fed by large rivers in the San Joaquin,
Was the lifegiving force for thousands of years
To Indian tribes, trappers, and explorers.
Over one thousand square miles,
The largest fresh water lake west of the Mississippi River,
A large fishing industry, the land of giant beaver and otters,
A lake that took three days for a schooner to cross,
In a very short time, became evanescent,
Forgotten by all who used to admire.
Along with the native tribes, the gold rush turned the heads
Of miners, then vast farms that appeared and went, farmers
Spent the water reserves.
Today the great desert waits for a drink but its throat remains parched.