Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow.
I loved creation better as it stood
That day You finished it so long ago
And looked upon Your work and called it good.
I know that others find You in the light
That's sifted down through tinted window panes,
And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.
I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
That You have made my freedom so complete;
That I'm no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street,
Just let me live my life as I've begun
And give me work that's open to the sky;
Make me a partner of the wind and sun,
And I won't ask a life that's soft or high.
Let me be easy on the man that's down;
Let me be square and generous with all.
I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town,
But never let 'em say I'm mean or small!
Make me as big and open as the plains,
As honest as the horse between my knees,
Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!
Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
You know about the reasons that are hid.
You understand the things that gall and fret;
You know me better than my mother did.
Just keep an eye on all that's done and said
And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
And guide me down the long, dim trail ahead
That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.
Sang (traditional, forkortet i den udgave, som Johnny Cash synger):
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.
These words came low and mournfully.
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay.
On his dying bed at the close of day
Oh, bury me not and his voice failed there.
But we took no heed to his dying prayer.
In a shallow grave just six by three.
We buried him there on the lone prairie.
Hele sangen er kendt under flere titler:
Bury me Not / Lone Prairie / Lonesome Prairie / Dying Cowboy
”Oh bury me not on the lone prairie.”
These words came slow and mournfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay
On his cold damp bed at the break of day.
He had dwelled in pain 'til o’er his brow
Death’s shadows fast were gathering now.
He thought of his friends and his loved ones nigh,
As the cowboys gathered to see him die.
”Oh bury me not on the lone prairie
Where the owl all night hoots mournfully,
In a narrow grave just six by three,
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie.”
”I’ve often been told that when you die
It matters not where the body lies,
But grant, oh grant this prayer to me
And bury me not on the lone prairie.”
”In fancy I hear the well known words
Of the wild free wind and the song of the birds,
I think of the home and the cottage bower
And the friends I knew in my childhood hour.”
”Oh bury me there, and after I die,
In a little churchyard on the green hillside,
By my father’s grave, oh let mine be,
And bury me not on the lone prairie.”
”Oh bury me not”, and his voice fell there.
But we paid no heed to his dying prayer,
In a narrow grave just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie.
Yes, we buried him there on the lone prairie
Where the owl all night hoots mournfully,
Where the buzzard beats and the wind blows free
O’er the lonely grave on the lone prairie
