Many a month has come and gone
since i wandered from my home
in those oklahoma hills where i was born.
many a page of life has turned,
many a lesson i have learned,
while i feel like in those hills i still belong.
But as i sit here today
many miles i am away
from the place i rode my pony through the draw
while the oaken black jack trees
kiss the purple prairie breeze
in those oklahoma hills where i was born.
Way down yonder in the indian nation
ride my pony on the reservation
in those oklahoma hills where i was born,
way down yonder in the indian nation
a cowboy's life was my occupation
in those oklahoma hills where i was born.
Now as i turn life a page
to the land of the great old sage
in those oklahoma hills where i was born
while the black oil rolls and flows
and the snow white cotton grows
in those oklahoma hills i still belong.
Way down yonder in the indian nation
ride my pony on the reservation
in those oklahoma hills where i was born,
way down yonder in the indian nation
a cowboy's life was my occupation
in those oklahoma hills where i was born.
Way down yonder in the indian nation
ride my pony on the reservation
in those oklahoma hills where i was born,
way down yonder in the indian nation
a cowboy's life was my occupation
in those oklahoma hills where i was born.