THE wind comes rollicking out of the West

(Oh, wind of the West, so free!)

With the scent of the plains on its heaving breast.

(Oh, plains that I no more see!)

It cries through the smoky and roaring town

Of the tossing grass and the hillsides brown

Where the cattle graze as the sun goes down.

(Oh, sun on the prairie sea!)

And this is the song that the West wind sings;

(Oh, call of the wind, have done!)

That the worth of life is the joy it brings.

(Oh, joy that is never won!)

That the stainless sky and the virgin sod

Hold richer wealth, of the peace of God,

Than the streets where the weary toilers plod.

(Oh, streets that the heart would shun!)

But, wind of the West, in vain thy voice,

(Oh, why must the voice be vain?)

If joy were all, 'twere an easy choice.

(Oh, choice that is fraught with pain!)

The road of life is a hard, hard way

But yet, if we hold to the path, it may

Lead back to the land of dreams some day.

(Yes, back to the plains again!)

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