expressway
highways and bridges - we need new (privately built profit making expensive toll) ones
indian reservations -
privatization -
Trump advisors aim to privatize oil-rich Indian reservations - reuters
drumpf supports all energy and pipelines
- we need more (like dapl)
housing -
he'll give you a home where the buffalo roam (bring your own sleeping bag)
Home of the stRange
Oh, give me the home of the ploughman's pickle,
Where the beer made of cantelope flows,
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word
And the empror lives on your nickel.
Where the beer made of cantelope flows,
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word
And the empror lives on your nickel.
Home, home of the stRange,
Where the beer made of cantelope flows;
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word,
And the skies they are cloudy all day.
Where the beer made of cantelope flows;
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word,
And the skies they are cloudy all day.
Where the air is not pure, the zephyrs unsure,
The breezes so strong to cause fright,
That I would not exchange my home of the stRange
For the cities so full of their blight.
The breezes so strong to cause fright,
That I would not exchange my home of the stRange
For the cities so full of their blight.
The red man was pressed from this part of the West,
He's likely no more to return
To the banks of Red River where seldom if ever
Their flickering campfires burn.
He's likely no more to return
To the banks of Red River where seldom if ever
Their flickering campfires burn.
How often at night when the heavens are bright
With the light of the nuclear dawn,
Have I stood here amazed and asked as I gazed
If we were all in their game just a pawn.
With the light of the nuclear dawn,
Have I stood here amazed and asked as I gazed
If we were all in their game just a pawn.
Oh, I loved the wild flowers in this dear land of ours;
before we all started to scream;
And I loved the white rocks and the antelope flocks
That grazed on the mountain-tops green.
before we all started to scream;
And I loved the white rocks and the antelope flocks
That grazed on the mountain-tops green.
Oh, give me a land where from under the sand
Flows oil in numerous streams;
Where the ungreatful white men go making amends
for the avarice shown in their dreams.
Flows oil in numerous streams;
Where the ungreatful white men go making amends
for the avarice shown in their dreams.
Then I would not exchange my home on the range,
Where the beer made of cantelope flows;
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word
And the empror doesnt wear clothes.
Where the beer made of cantelope flows;
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word
And the empror doesnt wear clothes.
Home, home of the stRange,
Where the beer made of cantelope flows,
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word,
And the skies they are cloudy all day.
Where the beer made of cantelope flows,
Where seldom is heard an encouraging word,
And the skies they are cloudy all day.
thanks to Cowboy Songs, 1910 by John A. Lomax.
listen Home On The Range boyscouttrail.com/...
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