Through the happy vales of thine.
Thou art empress of the angels,
Thou art queen of all the gods,
And the happiness of heaven
O'er thy laughing valleys nods.
I will always crown with praises
All thy glories, O, my state;
Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Thou art greatest of the great!

Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Bravest are thy noble sons,
In the thunders of the battle,
And the roaring of the guns!
Flash of sword and musket's rattle
Never fearful terror gave
To the staunch and valiant bosoms
Of thy happy hosts and brave.
When the roars of hell grow louder,
And the mountains shake in fright,
In the lurid clouds of powder,
They are foremost in the fight;
And when bayonet and musket,
Sword and saber, slaughter cease,
They are tenderest and truest
In the silent ways of peace.
O, my state! A stream of greatness
From thy mighty people runs;
Oklahoma! Oklahoma!
Bravest are thy noble sons!