Of all my travels far and wide,
To foreign lands and countryside,
None has given me lasting pride,
But the Sweetgrass Hills of Montana.

Silent sentinels in a mist of blue,
Sweeping o'er the Plains with a commanding view
Of grazing cattle and caribou...
And the Sweetgrass Hills of Montana.

Indian rings surrounding the brim
Of long-ago tepees on Rattlesnake Rim,
Of the Blackfeet nation's strive to win,
And the Sweetgrass Hills of Montana.

Lewis and Clark in their mission prevail,
The whiskey run of the Whoop-up Trail,
Hungarian partridge and hunter's quail,
And the Sweetgrass Hills of Montana.

My quest for distant shores now turning
Full circle, and a pulsate yearning
For one more giant step returning
To the Sweetgrass Hill of Montana!