Come leap to the saddle, the prairie awakes,
And a fresh free wind is blowing!
We'll gallop the hills of the poplar brakes,
Beyond the barbed wires and the willow stakes,
Where the riotous creeks are flowing.
Oh, hark to the music of eager hooves,
And whoop the joy of living!
Feel the heart's blood leap to the youth it proves,
Feel the sweep of power as the swift limb moves,
Drink the wine of the chinook's giving.
Oh the creak of the saddle and tinkle of spurs,
And the smell of the mane wild flinging!
The waxwing calls from the pungent firs,
While the woodland grouse from his drumming whirrs,
And the forest's wild deeps are ringing.
Tis spring come at last to her lost domains,
The long white winter's yearning,
She has come with her promise of sun and rains,
With a myraid balms for our winter pains
Thank God for her sweet returning.
author unknown
