North Dakota Blues
I’m as shriveled and dead as an autumnal leaf I’m a-blowin’ through life on a gossamer breeze To a ghost-ravaged town on the edge of the world Where the rain never came and the wild winds blow Through a sun-whitened skull on a sun-whitened plain Only thirteen are left only seven are sane Where the Indians roamed and the buffalo fell And the hide hunters struck with a harbinger’s knell. Then the homesteaders came with a robin’s egg dream And they planted their towns like a field full of wheat Till Depression and Dust like Colossus in black Left their...
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