From this valley we hope to be going,When at last we can travel alone,For we're sick of the snow and the dust storms,In Toronto we'll find a new home.
For it's forty below in the winter,And it's twenty below in the fall.It just rises to zero in summer,And we don't have a springtime at all.
Oh my Grandpa came West in the eighties,To the prairies where grain grew like grass,But the Wheat Board and freight rates got Grandpa,And Grandpa went East, second class.
For it's forty below in the winter,And it's twenty below in the fall.It just rises to zero in summer,And we don't have a springtime at all.
It was raining and snowing this morning,At the corner of Portage and Main,Now it's noon and the dust storm is blowing,And my basement is flooded again.
For it's forty below in the winter,And it's twenty below in the fall.It just rises to zero in summer,And we don't have a springtime at all.
Then come pay for my fare if you love me,And I'll hasten to bid you adieu,So goodbye to the Red River Valley,And the farmers all shivering and blue.
For it's forty below in the winter,And it's twenty below in the fall.It just rises to zero in summer,And we don't have a springtime at all.
