Dakota
by Charles Carpenter
02.08.1888 - 01.02.1956
Dakota, land of sunshine, land of rain,
Land of droughts, and land of 'pain.
Your beautiful valleys, your scenery so fair,
Search where you may, none can compare.
You have to your credit, more wealth and more land,
Than the average mortal can well understand.
You're the scenic playground of the big world wide,
And the masses congregate, and with you abide.
The Rushmore Memorial, the only one known,
Was carved by a genius from a mammouth stone.
The 'needles and caves' are a wonder to behold,
But nothing compared, to the wonders of 'gold'.
The Sweepstake mines, that cost millions or more,
Are 'doing their stuff' to bring forth the rich ore.
The deer and the antelope, the buffalo rare,
Are the game that the hunters mutually share.
'Fishermans luck' is a bye word with all,
Be it in spring, summer or fall.
Beautiful schools and colleges great,
Abound in great numbers all over the state.
Farmers and ranchers, all over the west,
Stick with Dakota, they love it the best.
The badlands famous, for wonders untold,
Reveal to the tourist, relics of old.
The prairies, the forest, the mountains, the draws,
Proclaim Dakota 'the state without flaws'.
The rodeo show, given each year,
Draw mammouth throngs, from far and near.
Rapid City, 'the tourist town',
Won for itself great renown.
The museum Hall, that's second to none,
Contains ancient relics, that's as old as the sun.
If I were a poet, and in rhyme could write,
On this beautiful state, I could throw much light.
Not being so gifted, I'll bring to a close,
Perhaps can tell better, my story in prose.
Here or abroad, where 'er I may roam,
Dakota will always remain my dear home.
When my work on Earth is done, and I'm gone to my rest,
Enscribe on my tombstone, 'I love Dakota the best'!
Written April 24th, 1942
