In the open part of the states
North wind swooped on The Great Plains
And down come from the sky
A pretty meadowlark sat by her side
And he called her his Wild Prairie Rose
His Wild Prairie Rose
Clipped her with his beak
And he held her to his yellow breast
Then up in to the clouds
Where she and her meadowlark bound
And he called her his Wild Prairie Rose
 His Wild Prairie Rose
He called her his Wild Prairie Rose
His Wild Prairie Rose
So higher and higher they flew
And they did so for days and days
But without her roots
All her petals were wilted away
So down to the ground they did come
And he laid her in the gritty mud
Her life had seen its last moments
And he flew off for another bud
And he called her his Wild Prairie Rose
His Wild Prairie Rose
He called her his Wild Prairie Rose
His Wild Prairie Rose
Wild Prairie Rose