I turn my face from the city, the City of Siren Songs,
I am going back to the prairie to where my heart belongs;
Her smile is true and gentle, there is peace in her ample breast,
And I know there's a welcome waiting with my love of the golden West.
It is years since I watched the shadows across her bosom roll,
Ere the luring voice of the city my boyish senses stole;
It is long since with swelling bosom I watched the sunbeams glide
Or the waving, far-flung reaches of her hills and valleys wide.
I am done with the sham and glitter where the huddled millions toil,
Lured with the money mirage, 'mid the din and the mad turmoil;
I am sick of the man-made temples that gloss the reeking sod,
So I take my course to the open, to the glorious temples of God.
I hear the voice of the mountains, they are singing the
oldtime strains,
The lure of the land is o'er me, the lure of the virgin plains;
The voice of rivers murmur, "Come back to your boyhood home",
So I turn my face from the city, I am going back to my own.