We're raisin' cane in Kansas,
But not the Cain of old;
We're raisin' corn in Kansas,
That turns to yellow gold;
We're raisin' wheat in Kansas,
And we've a lot to spare
(Two hundred by four hundred
Will grow wheat anywhere.)
We're raisin' hogs in Kansas,
Yes, raisin' 'em on hay—
Alfalfa in the meadows
Has come with us to stay—
And cattle browse the pastures
Where the wild buffalo
Were roamin' in the desert
Not fifty years ago.
We're pumpin' oil in Kansas,
And sendin' it away;
We're lightin' up the cities,
With gas, as bright as day.
And hens lay eggs and cackle
(No better payin' crop),
And separator butter
Sells at the very top.
A feller died in Kansas,
And went to Heaven's door,
And asked to gain admission,
To stay forever more.
"From Kansas?" said St. Peter,
"Your brain sure has a crack,
Y' better oil yer motor,
Git in and hike right back."
