We were born of the ocean Though our blood has hardened since From the carbon and the quartz we crossed As we moved to the east As we hit upon the mountains We planted in this town The abundance of the earth was all we'd need All our old songs seemed so foreign As we sang them in the square But in time more far-flung families joined our own Tales of Natives and the Northmen And the Kansans whence they came Sang our quiet little town into a home Singing Tie a ribbon round the old oak tree Make me down a pallet somewhere in a field Drop a line into the creek in moonlit darkness, I believe We could be cowboys if our mothers would yield That country road'll take us where we'd like to go But this land was made to be our home Now the snowfall can get heavy And the summers hot and dry But we celebrate the hearty earth in hand Through the cattle and the vineyards Where the hilltops meet the sky You can hear us sing their praises once again Singing Tie a ribbon round the old oak tree Make me down a pallet somewhere in a field Drop a line into the creek in moonlit darkness I believe We could be cowboys if our mothers would yield That country road'll take us where we'd like to go But this land was made to be our home We carve our names in stone And we plant our roots in bone When the flames have gone We come back strong Singin Tie a ribbon round the old oak tree Make me down a pallet somewhere in a field Drop a line into the creek in moonlit darkness I believe We could be cowboys, oh if Mama would yield That country road'll take us where we'd like to go But this land was made to be our This land was made to be our This land was made to be our home