. Book of song poems. reen abound. Of a state on the plains well sing, There with its barren tablelands;The rich valleys their treasures bring,There on its golden strands. September, ON THE PLATEAU VE stop as we go throughOn a great and high plateauWhere they have neither rain or dew, While passing through, passing through. Here the ground is quite bareTheres no trees or grass there,And dusty enough to make you swear,While passing through, passing through. Here the air is so light, And this is a wonderful sight. To see the mountains on the right, While passmg through, passing through.
. Book of song poems. reen abound. Of a state on the plains well sing, There with its barren tablelands;The rich valleys their treasures bring,There on its golden strands. September, ON THE PLATEAU VE stop as we go throughOn a great and high plateauWhere they have neither rain or dew, While passing through, passing through. Here the ground is quite bareTheres no trees or grass there,And dusty enough to make you swear,While passing through, passing through. Here the air is so light, And this is a wonderful sight. To see the mountains on the right, While passmg through, passing through. We see the pillars there so highThe barren rocks we pass by,And we have no time to stay, While passing through, passing through; Now we leave the barren go through the valley grandWith fruitful fields on every hand. While passing through, passing through. August, 1905. A SONG ON THE PLAINS. WE are traveling over the plainsWhere it seldom ever rainsAnd a cloud hides our train. Well get there, well get ? -6 C OJ t: <J=i 5 2 u == CO fl ^ n hH CO ,—t Qh (D ^ -tJ o Jh W) CD <D S CD 0) +J rt 05 0) CDO a fl •Pi m CO 1? ei *^ a 0) _ tj .S J^ t« ® = a 53 O — w r^ 03 1/ -. ?^ O •- 03 P o C 03 *^ H-l S H O Where the dust is in sightJust like a cloud of night:Civilizations lost from sight,Well get there, well get there. We see the sagebrush growAnd the cactus as we go;And the sands drift like snow,Well get there, well get there. Where the sands are at playAnd the train men scoop it awayAnd the train there must stay,Well get there, well get there. Where the dust flies so highLike a cloud in the it will get in your eye. Well get there, well get there. Where the dust gets down your neckAnd it goes through every crackAnd you wish that you were you get there, you get there. Now weve reached the other sideWith its fields and forests well sail on the ocean tide,We are there, we are there. THROUGH UTAH. OF a land in the West well sing
Size: 1273px × 1963px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., boo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidbookofsongpoems00alte
