It's spring in Oklahoma
And old nature's looking pert,
With the green plumes of the corn crop
Just a-pushin' through the dirt,
The odor comes in gladness
From each tinted prairie flower,
And the rich, red rambling roses
O'er the well curb make a bower.
It's spring in Oklahoma,
You can hear the red-bird call
To his mate hid in the cluster
Of the yuccas on the noll,
The red haws are in blossom
And the sand plums are in bud,
And the Oklahoma sunshine
Pours down in a golden flood.
It's spring in Oklahoma,
And the green alfalfa fields
Already are a-tellin'
Of six-fold golden yields;
The sod is turin' backward
As the plow goes on and on,
Soon the sod-land will have vanished
And the golden west be won.
It's spring in Oklahoma
Like no where else on earth,
And prairie land and timber
Are brimmin' full of mirth:
A million welcome voices
Sing sonnets in your ear—
It's spring in Oklahoma,
The joy tide of the year.
It's spring in Oklahoma,
And from emerald fields of wheat
The meadow larks are chorin'
An anthem pure and sweet;
The smell of the fresh furrow
Breathes prosperity's perfume,
And you just can't help from catchin'
The Oklahoma boom.
