. Book of song poems. hills. Through a beautiful land we wander,Where fine cities dot its plains; 172 Many are the beauties of its oil fields and coal veins. Through a beautiful land we wander,We see the rich fields of grain. Twas once a great wilderness,But now it shows its fame. Through a beautiful land we wander,With many springs and streams Like silvery bands through the land,With its timbers and grassy plains. Through a beautiful land we its wonders doth unfold; Well sing of its grandeur In this story that we have told. September, 1905. THE CIMARRON. TrxET us sing
. Book of song poems. hills. Through a beautiful land we wander,Where fine cities dot its plains; 172 Many are the beauties of its oil fields and coal veins. Through a beautiful land we wander,We see the rich fields of grain. Twas once a great wilderness,But now it shows its fame. Through a beautiful land we wander,With many springs and streams Like silvery bands through the land,With its timbers and grassy plains. Through a beautiful land we its wonders doth unfold; Well sing of its grandeur In this story that we have told. September, 1905. THE CIMARRON. TrxET us sing of the Cimarron,I / Where its crystal waters flow, With its white sands as we go,While we sing of the Cimarron. Let us sing of the Cimarron: Along its banks like snowflakes seenThe crystals of a salt stream, While we sing of the Cimarron. Let us sing of the Cimarron:There in Kansas it doth riseOn the plains, neath the sunny skies, While we sing of the Cimarron. Let us sing of the Cimarron,In Oklahoma a wide stream 173. Oklahoma Wind Mill. The Oklahoma farmers are jolly indeed,There by wind motors they grind their feed, For on the plains theres always a gale,A very few days but it will turn the wheel. Hidden by a wooded screen,While we sing of the Cimarron. Let us sing of the Cimarron:r\s it liows purer it doth growTill it reaches the Gulf of Mexico, While we sing of the Cimarron. August, 1905. OKLAHOMA. WELL sing of our sunny clime,As we all its beauties see:The springs and streams so its rich valleys and trees. Well sing of our sunny clime, Once by the red man trod,But now in rich fields of grain There we see along the road. Well sing of our sunny land:—Could you count its wealth?— And of its industries on every hand,With its red roses of health. Well sing of our sunny landAs we write our fondest dreams, Where we hear Natures band Let us paint all the lovely scenes. Well sing of our sunny land: Theres the beauties of early spring, Where the sunbeams play on the g
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