| Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam
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| Where the deer and the antelope play
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| Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
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| And the skies are not cloudy all day
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| Home, home on the range
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| Where the deer and the antelope play
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| Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
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| And the skies are not cloudy all day
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| The Red Man was pressed from this part of the west
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| It’s not likely he’ll ever return
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| To the banks of Red River, where seldom, if ever
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| His flickering campfires still burn
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| Home, home on the range
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| Where the deer and the antelope play
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| Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
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| And the skies are not cloudy all day
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| How often at night when the heavens are bright
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| With the light from the glittering stars
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| Have I stood there amazed and asked, as I gazed
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| If their glory exceeds that of ours
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| Home, home on the range
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| Where the deer and the antelope play
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| Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
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| And the skies are not cloudy all day
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| Oh, give me a land where the bright diamond sand
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| Flows leisurely down the stream
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| Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along
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| Like a maid in a heavenly dream
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| Home, home on the range
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| Where the deer and the antelope play
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| Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
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| And the skies are not cloudy all day |