“Oh bury me not on the lone prairie” These words came slow and mournfully From the pallid lip of a youth who lay In his dying bed at the close of day
“Oh bury me not…,” and his voice failed there But they took no heed to his dying prayer In a narrow grave, just six-by-three They buried him there on the lone prairie
“Oh bury me not on the lone prairie” Where the owl of night hoots mournfully And the blizzard beats and the winds blow free O’er his lonely grave on the lone prairie
And the cowboys now as they roam the plain For to marked the spot where his bones were lain Fling a handful of roses o’er his grave With a prayer to God for his soul to save