Natures best right here in the West,
just East of the Rocky Divide.
Capture's the imagination,
of the way it was; traveling,
on a wagon-train ride.
Miles and Miles of open land,
yet the Eagle see's it all,
from his predacious flight plan.
Prairie Dogs whistle a shrill alert,
retreat my friends or be Eagle desert.
Antelope scrub their sent glands,
on every sage brush around.
While the Badger just waddles,
his waddling way, to where ever,
the next home, can be found.
Wild Horses still roam on their grassland home,
Just north of the Bighorn Mountains.
While Buffalo still graze,
in old Yellowstone,
Next to mud-pots, geysers and fountains.
Oh; Wyoming, land of my heart,
If Heaven is anything like you,
then I pray this day,
I make it your way,
after I'm dead and buried and forgotten.