On the West Australian goldfields down Kalgoorlie streets are wideI walked one night and felt as though the past was by my sideThe city lights were fading and as I stood a whileA thousand candles seemed to shine across the golden mileThe clatter of a thousand tents before me on the fieldPicks and shovels laid around that worked the golden yieldAnd figures passed before me in a moving shifting pileTheir faces turned towards me, ghost of the golden mileAnd someone stood beside me and he watched them moving fromHe said it's getting crowded here, I think I'll move alongHis beard was grey and dusty, on his face was not a smilePaddy Hannon was a quiet man, he opened the golden mileAnd then I watched a camel team come swaying down the trackWith precious loads of water cars strapped across their backsThe Afghan clad Mohammed told of new strikes all the whileHis turban such a friendly sight along the golden mileOh I wish those men could see again these busy streets todayAnd hear the giant crushes as the mine works roar awayKalgoorlie speaks of history and it keeps their memories aliveAnd they'll never be forgotten, ghost of the golden mileOh they'll never be forgotten, ghost of the golden mile