Forever I’ll stay in this prairie
Which to me is a fairy land
Our fathers came by the wagon trail,
Moved in slowly as a crawling snail.
They drove some stakes in a wilderness
To mark their claims in the vacantness.
The howling wild, you will allow,
Was changed to the tune of the walking plow.
The buffalo roar and coyote’s wail
Was changed to the tune of the milking pail.
They changed the tune of the whistling wind
To a sweet refrain on a violin string.
The humming life on this prairie land
Is dear and rich and sweet and grand.
The charming strains have even grown,
Are now as rich as a Mendelssohn.
We greet each other with smiling faces
And sing about the wide open spaces,
Of silvery moonlight and sunset glow,
Where the goldenrod and the wild rose grow.
We breathe the air so pure and fresh
It quickens the pulse in the human flesh,
And gives you a thrill to be alive;
And if you are illing you will revive
So let us sing of the rolling prairie
Where we can frolic and all be merry.
Forever I’ll stay in this prairie land
Which to me is a fairy land.
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