Uplifted from the gently rolling plains,

Dakota’s Badlands struggle toward the sky,

Their crumbling towers shaped by winds and rains

Like sculptures from a studio on high.

Eroding time the patient Artist’s tool,

Soft limestone and pink sand His art supplies,

To do just as He pleased His only rule,

His work still stands to praise Him to the skies.

Some practical Dakota pioneer

Gave to these barren lands their present name:

Because he could not graze his cattle here,

And he did not regard their Maker’s fame.

Now may these lands be better understood:

For cows, they’re bad; for praising God, they’re good.