| He was born in the Bitteroot Valley in the early morning rain
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| Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again
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| Bringin' a warm wind from the south, bringin' the first taste of the spring
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| His mother took him to her breast and softly she did sing:
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| CHORUS:
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| Oh, Montana, give this child a home
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| Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own
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| Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes
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| Give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana skies
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| His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry
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| He never knew his father and he never did ask why
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| He never knew the answers that would make an easy way
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| But he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way
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| His mother’s brother took him in to his family and his home
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| Gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own
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| And he learned to be a farmer and he learned to love the land
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| And he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand
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| CHORUS
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| On the eve of his 21st birthday, he set out on his own |
| He was 30 years and runnin' when he found his way back home
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| Ridin' a storm across the mountains and an achin' in his heart
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| Said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start
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| Now he never told the story of the time that he was gone
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| Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a john
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| There was something in the city that he said he couldn’t breathe
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| There was something in the country that he said he couldn’t leave
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| CHORUS
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| Now some say he was crazy and some are glad he’s gone
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| But some of us will miss him and we’ll try to carry on Giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn
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| Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on CHORUS x2 |