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.
How often at night,
When the heavens are bright
With lights from the glitterin' stars,
Have I stood here amazed
And asked, as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours.
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.
The Red man was pressed
From this part of the west,
'Tis unlikely he'll ever return,
To the banks of Red River,
Where seldom if ever,
Their flickering campfires burn.
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.
Writer(s): George A. Tipton, Traditional
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