Written by: George Zamalea

	My history beckons like the Prairies
Dry towns. Cute and fierce,
	Fearless and enslavement,
As the likeness on the Platte,
	The Powder, the Niobrara, 
	the Tongue, the Snake,
The Yellowstone, who, as an American buffalo,
	Strange moonlight, explode
With gigantic waves!

	My history beckons like a halfway
Body of Missouri River and the Rockies,
Like the Paha-Sapa, the Black Hills of Sioux!
The delighted night of long dance and tales!

	My history beckons, oh powerless!
As the magic, mightily sport beyond 
	The thunderbird
Of the clean range of souls and heats
	As the unimaginable size of American bison!