We Met In The Hills Of Old Wyoming

Down a little winding trail in old Wyoming,
To a little shack with roses ‘round the door,
There’s a little blue-eyed curly headed maiden,
That I’ve been longing just to see once more.
She’s as sweet as the lily of the valley,
And you can bet she’s all the world to me,
We met down in the hills of old Wyoming ,
It was there she gave her little heart to me.
Now ev’ry night we’ll stroll beneath the stars up above,
And let the bright silv’ry moon-beams smile on our love,
Hand in hand down that little old trail we’ll wander,
Where the songbirds in the treetops sweetly sing,
Then we’ll plan and name the day that you’ll be mine dear,
When your hand will wear a little golden ring.
As the twilight softly falls each night she’s waiting,
‘Mid the roses by the old garden gate,
Underneath her bonnet golden curls hanging,
A smile so bright and cheery on her face.
Down beside a little babb’ling brook we’ll wander,
‘Neath summer skies where all the world is still,
‘Till once again it’s time to say, “Goodnight dear,
I’ll be with you when the sun sets on the hill.”