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63 North Dakota I’m from Nor’ Dakota, me From da reservation up ’dere, We surrounded by Swedes Dey fight da Norwegian’s, I swear. Dey live close by us because Da mighty Pembina Band With Gatling guns aimed, Signed a treaty, and lost ten million acres of land And hills, and sweeping prairie, In ’dis here place you call Nor’ Dakota. As long as the grass grows And the river flows . . . And now I lie upon the earth in bitter cold, Close to the Red River’s frozen edge, And under layers of snow no longer ours, I hear the grass grow. ...

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