Leave it to those pesky #western106 folks to demand (ok, challenge us) to write a verse of the lousy song Home on the Range. Lousy insofar as I could never relate to the song at all; a home on the range never appealed to me. In fact, it downright terrifies me, but that is for another post. Perhaps.
Going back to the original poem The Western Home, I shall do my best, and that is all I can do.
Here is the original (only for context):
The Western Home
Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where never is heard a discouraging word
And the sky is not clouded all day.
Oh, give me the gale of the Solomon vale
Where life streams with buoyancy flow,
On the banks of the Beaver, where seldom if ever
Any poisonous herbage doth grow.
Oh, give me the land where the bright diamond sand
Throws light from the glittering stream;
Where glideth along the graceful white swan,
Like a maid in her heavenly dreams.
I love these wild flowers in this bright land of our;
I love, too, the curlew’s wild scream.
The bluffs of white rocks and antelope flocks
That graze on the hillsides so green.
How often at night, when the heavens are bright
By the light of the glittering stars,
Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their beauty exceeds this of ours.
The air is so pure, the breezes so light,
The zephyrs so balmy at night,
I would not exchange my home here to range
Forever in azure so bright.
The original poem by Brewster Higley (With thanks to Mary (Harlan-Barr) Norris)
Interesting, the poem verses follow an 11-9-11-9 pattern. Hmm. Mental note with counting on fingers to be ready.
OK, here is my added verse per today’s #western106 challenge, “Write a #ds106-themed verse of the classic “Home on the Range” in the spirit of our shared unlearning experience:
How open I am, to learn something quite new
That I struggle and struggle to find,
Help me make sense, without assuming too much
That I want to learn it just like you.
I think I shall count this verse as a poem, as that somehow sounds more exotic to me than a lyricist . . .