When it's springtime in Montana,
And the gentle breezes blow,
About seventy miles an hour
And it's fifty-two below.
You can tell you're in Montana
'cause the snow's up to your butt,
And you take a breath of springtime air
And your nose holes both freeze shut.
The weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I'll hang around,
I could never leave Montana.
My feet are frozen to the ground.