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Many a month has come and gone |
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Since I've wandered from my home |
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In those Oklahoma hills where I was born |
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Many a page of my life has turned |
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Many lessons I have learned |
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And I feel like in those hills where I belong |
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Way down yonder in the Indian nation |
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Riding my pony on the reservation |
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In the Oklahoma hills where I was born |
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Way down yonder in the Indian nation |
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A cowboy's life is my occupation |
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In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born |
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But as I sit here today |
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Many miles I am away |
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From the place I rode my pony through the draw |
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Where the oak and black jack trees |
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Kiss the playful Prairie breeze |
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And I feel back in those hills where I belong |
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Way down yonder in the Indian nation |
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Riding my pony on the reservation |
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In the Oklahoma hills where I was born |
|
Way down yonder in the Indian nation |
|
A cowboy's life is my occupation |
|
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born |
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Now as I turn life a page |
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To the land of the great Osage |
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In those Oklahoma hills where I was born |
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Where the black oil rolls and flows |
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And the snow white cotton grows |
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And I feel like in those hills where I belong |
|
Way down yonder in the Indian nation |
|
Riding my pony on the reservation |
|
In the Oklahoma hills where I was born |
|
Way down yonder in the Indian nation |
|
A cowboy's life is my occupation |
|
In the Oklahoma Hills where I was born |
