Twas in the spring of '71
Along the Ponil Creek I planted apple, pear, and plum
Sixty-one acres of little trees
That would soon grow heavy with every winter variety
But the townsfolk down in Cimarron
Laughed and sneered and hooted
"Don't you know your fruit trees
Never will get fruited?"
And they called it "Manly's Folly"
But I'm gonna win the Fair of the World!

To Colfax County the land wars came
There was trouble in Red River with the Ring from Santa Fe
And all my children now raised and married
Oh, them apples saw it all, they saw my sweet Theresa buried
So pile your hay up in a heap
Drive your cattle shear your sheep
But if you talk behind my back
You're diggin' your hole deep
To call these apples "Manly's Folly"
'Cause I'm gonna win the Fair of the World!

Don't like my apples
Don't shake my trees
Get outta my orchard
Let my apples be
You may call it "Manly's Folly"
But I'm gonna win the Fair of the World!

Now old Lew Wallace the governor man
He put his back against my trunk with pen and paper in his hand
As the ink fell across the page
Wild roman chariots raced through my apple shade
He got published, he got praised
They turned his book into play
I took Theresa out to see it
When it came Las Vegas way
Saw Ben Hur win his freedom
In the story that's been heard around the world

And now another great chariot
With horses made of iron but a gage that's Roman yet
Will come rumblin' through my trees
Oh, the Cimarron Northwestern will come rattle all my leaves
Shipping housing timbers, props, and ties
Hear that whistle whine
When the Saint Louis Rocky Mountain
And Pacific Railway Line
Takes my apples to Chicago
Where I'm gonna win the fair of the world

So build your railroad
Where'er you please
You'll pay top dollar
For my best thirty trees
They'll be gone but I ain't worried
'Cause I'm gonna win the Fair of the World

And you may call it "Manly's Folly"
But I'm gonna win the Fair of the World
Gonna win the Fair of the World