Home on the Range

The hours I spent with thee, dear heart,

are as a string of pearls to me.

I count them over every one a part, my rosary,

my rosary.

Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer.

For still a heart in absence roam,

I tell each bead on toward the end, and there a cross is hung.

For memories that bless and burn,

for barren gain and bitter loss,

I kiss each bead and strive at last to learn, oh, kiss the cross, dear heart.

Oh, kiss the cross.