Where long ago the Indian roamed
and chased the buffalo.
White men now have built their homes,
and plow and plant and reap and sow.

Where once we rode the trackless plain,
astride the Spanish steed,
you have the great highways,
and in purring motors speed.

Where oxen trod the dusty trail,
to reach the ranchman's goal,
now thundering engines tread the rail,
and tones of commerce roll.

O'er where the mule and buckboard sped,
the uncharted grassy way,
the aeroplanes sail the sunny skies,
a thousand miles per day.

Where we rode the darkest night,
to stop the wild stampede,
men are now guided by electric light,
and wondrous maidens lead.

Where we lay round campfires burning,
to laugh and talk and joke,
you have these famous halls of learning,
filled with gleeful college folk.

Where we cooked with twisted hay,
made by cattle from the grass,
you have the blue blaze night and day,
and bake with natural flowing gas.

Where we rode through storm and rain,
the milling herd to hold,
now combines cut the ripening grain,
and turn it into gold.

Many changes more have been,
in one life's fleeting span,
brought about by sturdy men,
who never failed to duty stand.

Historians, to thee this charge we give,
write for us three cherished words,
let them through future ages live,
cow boys, cutting horse, and herd.

Oh, say, one more request we make,
just in love, not fame,
please preserve the old ranch house,
and Dyer's and Gunter's name.