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A HOME ON THE RANGE
O H, give me a home where the buffalo roam, Where the deer and the antelope play, Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day.
Home, home on the range, Where the deer and the antelope play; Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day.
Where the air is so pure, the zephyrs so free, The breezes so balmy and light, That I would not exchange my home on the range For all of the cities so bright.
The red man was pressed from this part of the
West, He's likely no more to return To the banks of Red River where seldom if ever Their flickering camp-fires burn.
How often at night when the heavens are bright With the light from the glittering stars, Have I stood here amazed and asked as I gazed If their glory exceeds that of ours.