OLD IDAHO

Take me back to old Idaho,
Where there's plenty room and air;
Where's there's cottonwood an' pine trees,
Bitter root and prickly pear;
Where there ain't no pomp nor glitter,
Where a shillin's called a "bit,"
Where at night the magpies twitter,
Where the Injun fights were fit.

Take me back where the sage is plenty,
Where there's rattlesnakes and ticks;
Where a stack of "whites" costs twenty,
Where they don't sell gilded bricks;
Where the old Salmon river,
An' the crystal Coeur d'Alene
Makes green patches in the lava beds,
Where prosperity reigns supreme.

Take me where there ain't no subways,
Nor no forty-story shacks;
Where they shy at automobiles,
Dudes, plug hats an' three-rail tracks;
Where the old sun-tanned prospector
Dreams of wealth an' pans his dirt,
Where the sleepy night-herd puncher
Sings to steers and plies his quirt.

Take me where there's diamond hitches,
Ropes and brands and ca'tridge belts;
Where the boys wear chaps for britches,
Flannel shirts and Stetson felts.
Land of alfalfa an' copper!
Land of sapphire an' gold!
Take me back to dear Idaho,
Let me die there when I'm old.