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Take me back to old Montana Where there's plenty room and air: Where there's cottonwood an 'pine trees Bitter-root an' prickly pear; Where there aint no pomp nor glitter Where a shillin's called a "bit." Where at night the magpies twitter. Where the Injun flights were fit. Take me back where the sage is plenty, Where there's rattlesnakes and ticks; where a stack of "whites" costs twenty; Where they don't sell gilded bricks. Where the old Missouri river An' the muddy Yellowstone Make green patches in the Bad Lands Where old Sittin' Bull was known. Take me where there ain't no subways, nor no forty-story shacks; Where they shy at automobiles. Dudes, plug hats an' three rail tracks; Where the old sun-tanned prospector Dreams of the sleepy night herd puncher Sings to steers and plys the quirt. Take me where there's diamond hitches. Ropes an' brands an' ca'tridge belts; Where the boys wear shapps for britches. Flannel shirts an' Stetson felts, Land of alfalfa an' copper ! Land of sapphire an gold; Take me back to dear Montana. Let me die there when I'm Old. |
