When the roars of hell grow louder,
And the mountains shake in fright,
In the lurid clouds of powder,
They are foremost in the fight;
And when bayonet and musket,
Sword and saber, slaughter cease,
They are tenderest and truest
In the silent ways of peace.
O, my state! A stream of greatness
From thy mighty people runs;
Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Bravest are thy noble sons!
Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Fairest are thy daughters fair,
In the thousand deeds of duty
Thou hast given them to bear;
Peerless is their wondrous beauty,
Bright with blushes as the rose,
Pure as petals of the lily,
White as newly-fallen snows;
And their voices bright with blessing
Banish misery and woe,
While their fingers' soft caressing
Soothes the fevers from the brow.
Souls are always blessed with brightness
Bosoms filled with goodly pearls,
Hearts forever harvest gladness,
In the glances of thy girls.
They are robed in golden garments,
Nature's vestments, rich and rare;
Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Fairest are thy daughters fair!
Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Sweetest are thy happy homes,
Smiling in the holy gladness
Which above thee always roams;
They are never linked with sadness,
They are never bound with pains,
For the sunshine of enjoyment
Rules the people of thy plains.
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