STATE OF OKLAHOMA
State of North Oklahoma
State of North Oklahoma
VOCAL
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VOCAL
|
(in English)
I give you a land of sun and flow'rs,
And summer a whole year long;
I give you a land where the golden hours,
Roll by to the mocking bird's song;
Where the cotton blooms 'neath the southern sun,
Where the vintage hangs thick on the vine;
A land whose story has just begin,
This wonderful land of mine.
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
Fairest daughter of the West,
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
'Tis the land I love the best.
We have often sung her praises,
but we have not told the half,
So I give you "Ok-la-ho-ma,"
'Tis a toast we all can quaff.
I give you a land of sun and flow'rs,
And summer a whole year long;
I give you a land where the golden hours,
Roll by to the mocking bird's song;
Where the cotton blooms 'neath the southern sun,
Where the vintage hangs thick on the vine;
A land whose story has just begin,
This wonderful land of mine.
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
Fairest daughter of the West,
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
'Tis the land I love the best.
We have often sung her praises,
but we have not told the half,
So I give you "Ok-la-ho-ma,"
'Tis a toast we all can quaff.
A land where the fields of golden grain,
Like waves on a sunlit sea,
Bend low to the breezes that sweep the plain
With a welcome to you and me;
Where the corn grows high 'neath the smiling sky,
Where the quail whistles low in the grass;
And the fruit trees greet with a burden sweet,
And perfume the winds that pass.
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
Fairest daughter of the West,
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
'Tis the land I love the best.
We have often sung her praises,
but we have not told the half,
So I give you "Ok-la-ho-ma,"
'Tis a toast we all can quaff.
Like waves on a sunlit sea,
Bend low to the breezes that sweep the plain
With a welcome to you and me;
Where the corn grows high 'neath the smiling sky,
Where the quail whistles low in the grass;
And the fruit trees greet with a burden sweet,
And perfume the winds that pass.
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
Fairest daughter of the West,
Oklahoma, Oklahoma,
'Tis the land I love the best.
We have often sung her praises,
but we have not told the half,
So I give you "Ok-la-ho-ma,"
'Tis a toast we all can quaff.