La preoccupazione nasce dal fatto che si tratta di una canzone che era nascosta in quelche lato remoto del mio cervello: la suonavo con il flauto dolce alle scuole medie e il testo risale al lontano... 1873 (Brewster Higley - My Western Home).
Com'è sbucata fuori?Si tratta di Home On the Range. Sarà colpa delle giornate che si accorciano o delle nuvole?
O give me a home where the buffaloes roam
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Where the air is so pure and the zephyrs so free
And the breezes so balmy and light
That I would not exchange my home on the range
For all of the cities so bright
Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day
How often at night when the heavens are bright
With the light of the glittering stars
I stand there amazed & I ask as I gaze
Does their glory exceed that of ours?
Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day
, invece è peggio. 
