The United States is the land of my birth,
The strongest and wealthiest country on earth.
But the states aren't all equal, I'm sorry to say
Wisconsin's the pick of the 50 today.
I like Virginia, Montana and Maine,
But it's here in Wisconsin I proudly remain,
With walleyes and fish fries and hot apple pie,
And the Badgerland motto: Eat Cheese or Die.
We've got forests and prairies,
Breweries and dairies,
Skiing on water and skiing on snow.
From Big Bend to Bayfield,
Potosi to Plainfield,
The lucky ones live in Wisconsin.
Arizona's too dry, Colorado's too high,
In Alaska you'll freeze and in Georgia you'll fry.
Hawaii's so distant it's barely existent,
California is crumbling; let's all wave goodbye.
Nevada's too empty, the deserts don't tempt me.
In Kansas a forest is one lonesome tree.
New York is an anthill, a flesh-and-blood landfill,
And too many lawyers run loose in D.C.
We've got silos and steeples
And down-to-earth people,
Holsteins aplenty and Guernseys galore.
From Lone Rock to Lena,
New Glarus to Neenah,
The lucky ones live in Wisconsin.
Minnesota and Michigan, they're both our special friends.
We get along fine with the people next door.
Illinois, on the other hand, I couldn't recommend.
It's flat as a pancake and spoiled to the core.
The Flatlanders visit us year after year,
Clogging the highways and killing our deer.
They root for the White Sox, they frighten our livestock.
We hide all the children whenever they're here.
We've got sweet corn and bratwurst,
Chicago's a lot worse.
Our cheddar is better, our butter's the best.
From Monroe to Milwaukee,
Waupun to Wausaukee,
The lucky ones live In Wisconsin.
Yes, from Adell to Algoma,
Two Rivers to Tomah,
The lucky ones live In Wisconsin.

by John Gurda