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"Live every day so that you can look every damn man in the face and tell him to go to hell," Take me back to old Montana Where there's plenty room and air; Where there's cotton-wood an pine trees. Bitter-route an prickly-pear; Where there ain't no pomp nor glitter Where at night the Mag-pies twitter, Where the injun fights were fit. Take me back where the sage is plenty, Where there's rattle-snakes an 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 Sitton 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 wealth an pans his dirt; Where the sleepy night-herd puncher Sings to steers and plys his quirt. Take me where there's diamond hitches, Ropes an brands an ca tridge belts; Where the boys wear shapps fer britches, Flannel shirts an Stetson felts. Land of alfalta an copper! Land of sapphire an gold! Take me back to dear Montana, Let me back to dear Montana, Let me die there when I'm old. |
