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For when we are there, we've nothing to
fear, Our potatoes and corn will grow without
work, And we'll feast on sweet buffalo half of
They say those plains have the rarest of
game, There's the buffalo, elk and antelope, too; While the grass is filled with chicken and
quail, And there is the turkey that weighs
I'll put in my crops, and go hunting, you
mind the children, and live at
your ease. No smudges to build, the mosquitoes to
scare; No potatoes to bury, for there they won't
Now, wife, we will dream of that land of
delight, How we'll gather the flowers that cover
the lea; That fertile vale, with fountains so clear,
That cherished home this fall, we will see.
Kansas as it is.
ANSAS is a noted state,
With many thriving towns,
years, But not ashamed of her acres tilled; Nor of the stock she sends abroad;
Nor of her cribs, her corn has filled.
She's rich in mines of zinc and lead;
And coal is found of every hue, Her
gypsum mills grind up her rocks, That makes your old land new.