When I see a prairie schooner
With the tongue a-pointing west,
What a mighty nameless longing
Always swells and fills my breast;
For it's headed toward a country
I shall always love the best,
Toward a land of stars and sunshine,
Toward the prairies of the West.

It's a wide and wondrous region;
Naught its virgin beauty mars
Where the plains are strewn with blossoms
As the sky is strewn with stars,
Where the air so keen and bracing
Gives to life a joy and zest,
Makes the pulses leap and tingle;
In the blood there runs the West.

And I know within the schooner
'Neath its cover worn and brown,
There are hearts with hope a-tingle,
There is faith that will not down.
Though a man may meet misfortune,
Failure never is confessed
When he mounts a prairie schooner
With the tongue a-pointing west.

So when from the ties that bind me
I at last shall break away,
Leave each sordid task behind me,
As I surely shall some day,
When I choose a craft for cruising,
Love or Fortune as my quest,
It will be a prairie schooner
With the tongue a-pointing west.