It is the song that every western singer wore out over some 130 years, but here is the version sung by Powder River Jack Lee. It has some verses printed by John A. Lomax in 1910, but is different in many ways. Lee said it was "taken from an old sea chantey, "Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea where the wild, wild waves will roll o'er me," etc."

BURY ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE
(Powder River Jack Lee version)

Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.
He had wailed in pain till o'er his brow
Death's shadows fast were gathering now,
And he thought of his friends and his home so nigh,
As the cowboys gathered to see him die.

Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me,
Where the west wind sweeps and the grasses wave,
And sunbeams rest on the prairie grave.
In fancy I listen to the well-known words
Of the free wild winds and the song of the birds;
I think of home and the cottage in the bower
And the scenes I loved in my childhood's hour.

It matters not, I've often been told,
Where the body lies when the heart grows cold.
Yet grant, oh, grant this wish to me;
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.
Then bury me not on the lone prairie
In a narrow grave six by three,
Where the buffalo paws o'er the prairie sea,
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

I've always wished to be laid, when I died,
In the little churchyard on the green hillside;
By my father's grave, there let mine be;
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.
O'er me then a mother's prayer
And a sister's tears might mingle there,
Where my friends can come and weep o'er me;
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie
In a narrow grave just six by three,
Where the buzzard waits and the wind blows free,
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.
There is another whose tears may be shed
For one who lies on a prairie bed.
It pained me then, and it pains me now-
She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow.

Oh, why did I roam o'er the wild prairie?
She's waiting there at home for me.
But her lovely face ne'er more I'll see;
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.
These locks she has curled, shall the rattlesnake kiss?
This brow she has kissed, shall the cold grave press?
For the sake of her who will weep for me,
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
Where the wild coyotes will howl o'er me,
Where the buzzard beats, and the wind goes free;
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.
Oh, bury me not, and his voice failed there,
But we took no heed of his dying prayer;
In a narrow grave just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie.

Where the dewdrops glow and the butterflies rest,
And the flowers bloom o'er the prairie's crest;
Where the wild coyote and the wind sports free
On a wet saddle blanket lay a cowboy-ee.
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
Where the wild coyote will howl o'er me.
Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the crow flies free,
Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie.

Oh, we buried him there on the lone prairie,
Where the wild rose blooms and the wind blows free.
Oh, his young face ne'er more to see
For we buried him there on the lone prairie.
Yes, we buried him there on the lone prairie
Where the owl at night hoots mournfully;
And the blizzard beats and the wind blows free
O'er his lonely grave on the lone prairie.

May the light-winged butterfly pause to rest
O'er him who sleeps on the prairie's crest;
May the Texas rose in the breezes wave
O'er him who sleeps in the prairie's grave.
And the cowboys now, as they roam the plain-
For they marked the spot where his bones were lain-
Fling a handful of roses o'er his grave,
With a prayer to God his soul to save.

Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,
Where the wolves can howl and growl o'er me,
Fling a handful of roses o'er my grave
With a prayer to Him who my soul will save.
Where the rattlesnakes glide
And rattle and slide,
But we buried him there
On the lone prairie.

Powder River Jack H. Lee, 1938, "Cowboy Songs," pp. 60-61, with music. The McKee Printing Co., Butte, Montana.