This "God forsaken land" they call it. And gaze with pitying eye. "Nothing here but sand and sagebrush, and a vast expanse of sky.
"We don't know how you stand it", these city folks declare. "How do you make a living, you can't just live on air.
Well, we could tell them of our ranches, where great heards of cattle roam. Or of the flocks of woolies, that claim Wyoming for their home.
They may not see our fertile valleys with their fields of hay and grain. But nestling there among the hills, we have them just the same.
This "loneliness" they talk about, to us is God's own peace. There's so much beauty all around, our thanks shall never cease.
Our streams are full of Rainbow Trout. We've antelope, elk and deer. We're a mile up nearer to Heaven, and the air is pure and clear.
Our sunsets glow with color, and in the pearly dawn of morn', the pungent scent of sage drifts down on wind that's mountain born.
We don't know much of city life or where they seek God there. But we do know in Wyoming, that we find him everywhere.
So we'll leave them to their cities, where the living is so grand. And we'll stay in our Wyoming, in our God Beloved Land.
~ Ray Lowe