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Oh give me a home by the Mountains high
Where wild flowers bloom and the clear blue sky
Stretches smokeless for miles and miles
And the Verdant fields by the river smiles.
Oh give me a plot of Virgin sod
Where the Pioneers came to worship God,
A little white cottage and flowers sweet,
My husband and children, then life's complete.
Oh, take me away from the city grand,
where smokestacks puff, and skyscrapers stand,
Where thousands of humans toiled and surge
The crowded streets, with one great urge.
The struggle for bread, for gold and gain,
For land and houses, for wealth and fame;
The rich and the poor, both dead and alive
All jostling together like bees in a hive.
The costly mansions on every street;
The hard, hot pavement under feet;
The trolley cars and automobiles;
All the world seems young on wheels;
The crunching of engines, the screeching of brakes,
Grinds on one's nerves, e'er he is awake.
You snatch your breakfast, no time to pray
E'er you start on the rush of another hard day.
Your children hurry from morn' 'til night;
School and football, dance and fight;
A round of the beaches and cabaret;
A trip to the movies and latest play;
And Dad must give 'til his wallet's flat,
A dime for this, a dollar for that,
While Mother rings up the grocery store
Two or three times e'er, each meal is o'er.
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Oh, take me away from this rush, and hang
The artificial, the straw and the sham,
And give me a little field of ground
With a stream of water flowing 'round
Some trees of peaches and figs and grapes,
and nuts and berries of every shape,
A vegetable garden spreading wide,
Some chickens and turkeys on the side;
And let me fill a goodly store
With rows of bottles o'er and o'er;
Pickles and jellies, jams and fruit
That even a queen's taste I might suit.
Butter and cheese and eggs and meat,
My satisfaction would be complete.
While my city brother, his brain still racks
To feed his family from cans and sacks.
And give my children a chance to inhale
Air that is pure instead of stale.
Give them a chance to live and grow
In natural surroundings without much show.
Where any man's son on knowledge bent
Is apt to become "The President".
Where wealth doesn't count, but health and fame
Are gained by living clean and sane.
And, last but not least on my virgin sod
Give me time to think of God
And of the beautiful world He's made;
Forests and meadows, sun and shade.
And as I gaze on the mountains height
My hungry soul fills with delight,
For in this valley I yet may find
Time to enjoy my friends, mankind.
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