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Take me back to South Dakota,
Where there is plenty of room and air;
Where there is grain and elevators,
Self binders and prickly pear.
Where there ain't no pomp nor glitter,
Where a "shillin's" called a "bit,"
Where at night the magpies twitter,
Where the Injun fights were fit.
Take me back where land is plenty,
Where there is rattlesnakes and ticks,
Where a "stack" of "whites" costs twenty,
Where they don't sell gilded bricks.
Where the old Missouri river
And the winding, clear Sheyenne
Makes green patches in the "bad lands,"
Where the Sioux and cowboys ran.
OLD SOUTH DAKOTA
Take me where there ain't no subways,
Nor no forty-story shacks,
Where they shy at automobiles
Dudes, plug hats and three-rail tracks.
Where the honest sunburned farmer
Dreams of wealth and plows his dirt,
Where the sleepy night herd puncher
Sings to steers and plies his quirt.
Take me where there is diamond hitches,
Ropes, brands and ca'tridge belts,
Where the boys wear "chaps" for britches,
Soft boiled shirts and Stetson felts.
Land of cyclones and hustle,
Land of waving grain and gold,
Take me back to South Dakota,
Let me die there when I am old.
Photos Copyrighted by R. R. DOUBLEDAY, Cheyenne, Wyo.
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