Roger Welsch sweet nebraska land

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Ah, Nebraska Land, Sweet Nebraska Land!
Upon thy burning soil I stand.
And I look away, across the plains,
And I wonder why it never rains.
We've reached the land of dessert sweet,
Where nothing grows for man to eat.
And the wind it blows with feverish heat,
Across those plains so hard to beat.
That's Nebraska Land, Sweet Nebraska Land!
Upon thy burning soil I stand.
And I look away, across the plains,
And I wonder why it never rains.
We have no wheat, we have no oats,
We have no corn to feed our shoats.
Our chickens are so very pour,
They beg for crumbs outside our door.
In Nebraska Land, Sweet Nebraska Land!
Upon thy burning soil I stand.
And I look away, across the plains,
And I wonder why it never rains.
Our horses are a bronco race,
Starvation stares them in the face.
We do not live we only stay,
Cause we're too poor to move away.
From Nebraska Land, Sweet Nebraska Land!
Upon thy burning soil I stand.
And I look away, across the plains,
And I wonder why it never rains.

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