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Music


Live in London

1976
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Track List
  1. Starwood In Aspen

    Starwood In Aspen

    It’s a long way from L.A. to Denver, it’s a long time to hang in the sky.
    It’s a long way home to Starwood in Aspen, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise,
    oh, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise.

    Springtime is rolling ’round slowly, gray skies are bringing me down.
    Can’t remember when I’ve ever been so lonely,
    I’ve forgot what it’s like to be home, can’t remember what it’s like to be home.

    I think of my lady’s sweet memory, I think on my children’s sweet smiles.
    I think of my home at Starwood in Aspen, all my friends and the snow-covered hills,
    oh, my friends are the snow-covered hills.

    Can I tell you I’m happy to be here to share and consider this time?
    For I see here the shadows of changes, and a feeling of new friends to find,
    and I see here some new friends to find.

    It’s a long way from this place to Denver, it’s a long time to hang in the sky.
    It’s a long way home to Starwood in Aspen, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise,
    oh, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise.

    (written by John Denver)

  2. Sunshine On My Shoulders

    Sunshine On My Shoulders

    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    If I had a day that I could give you, I’d give to you the day just like today.
    If I had a song that I could sing for you, I’d sing a song to make you feel this way.

    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    If I had a tale that I could tell you, I’d tell a tale sure to make you smile.
    If I had a wish that I could wish for you, I’d make a wish for sunshine for all the while.

    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    Sunshine almost all the time makes me high.  Sunshine almost always…

    (written by John Denver)

  3. Back Home Again

    Back Home Again

    There’s a storm across the valley, clouds are rolling in,
    the afternoon is heavy on your shoulders.
    There’s a truck out on the four lane, a mile or more away,
    the whining of his wheels just makes it colder.

    He’s an hour away from riding on your prayers up in the sky
    and ten days on the road are barely gone.
    There’s a fire softly burning, supper’s on the stove,
    but it’s the light in your eyes that makes him warm.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    There’s all the news to tell him, how’s you spend your time,
    and what’s the latest thing the neighbors say?
    And your mother called last Friday, “Sunshine” made her cry
    and you felt the baby move just yesterday.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    Oh, the time that I can lay this tired old body down,
    and feel your fingers feather soft upon me.
    The kisses that I live for, the love that lights my way,
    the happiness that living with you brings me.

    It’s the sweetest thing I know of, just spending time with you.
    It’s the little things that make a house a home.
    Like a fire softly burning and supper on the stove,
    the light in your eyes that makes me warm.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    I said hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    (written by John Denver)

  4. Grandma’s Feather Bed

    Grandma’s Feather Bed

    When I was a little bitty boy, just up off a floor,
    we used to go down to Grandma’s house every month end or so.
    We’d have chicken pie and country ham, homemade butter on the bread.
    But the best darn thing about Grandma’s house was her great big feather bed.
    It was nine feet wide, and six feet high, soft as a downy chick
    It was made from the feathers of forty-eleven geese,
    took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick.
    It’d hold eight kids and four hound dogs and a piggy we stole from the shed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.

    After supper we’d sit around the fire, the old folks would spit and chew.
    Pa would talk about the farm and the war, and Granny’d sing a ballad or two.
    I’d sit and listen and watch the fire till the cobwebs filled my head,
    next thing I’d know I’d wake up in the morning
    in the middle of the old feather bed.

    It was nine feet wide, and six feet high, soft as a downy chick
    It was made from the feathers of forty-eleven geese,
    took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick.
    It’d hold eight kids and four hound dogs and a piggy we stole from the shed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.

    Well I love my Ma, I love my Pa, I love Granny and Grandpa too.
    I been fishing with my uncle, I ras’led with my cousin, I even kissed Aunt Lou, ewwww!
    But if I ever had to make a choice, I guess it oughta be said
    that I’d trade ’em all plus the gal down the road for Grandma’s feather bed.
    I’d trade ’em all plus the gal down the road…
    I’ll have to reconsider ’bout the gal down the road…

    It was nine feet wide, and six feet high, soft as a downy chick
    It was made from the feathers of forty-eleven geese,
    took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick.
    It’d hold eight kids and four hound dogs and a piggy we stole from the shed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.

    (written by Jim Connor)

  5. Pickin’ The Sun Down

    Pickin’ The Sun Down

    Instrumental

  6. Thank God I’m A Country Boy

    Thank God I’m A Country Boy

    Well, life’s on a farm is kinda laid back,
    ain’t much an old country boy like me can’t hack.
    It’s early to rise, early in the sack thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, a simple kind of life never did me no harm,
    raising me a family and working on the farm.
    My days are all filled with an easy country charm, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    When the work’s all done and the sun’s setting low,
    I pull out my fiddle and I rosin up the bow.
    The kids are asleep so I keep it kinda low, thank God I’m a country boy.
    I’d play Sally Gooding all day if I could,
    but the lord and my wife wouldn’t take it very  good.
    So I fiddle when I can and I work when I should, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    I wouldn’t trade my life for diamonds or jewels,
    I never was one of them money hungry fools.
    I’d rather have my fiddle and my farming tools, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Yeah, city folk driving in a black limousine,
    a lotta sad people thinking that’s-a mighty keen.
    Son, let me tell you now exactly what I mean, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    Well, my fiddle was my daddy’s till the day he died,
    and he took me by the hand and held me close to his  side.
    He said, “Live a good life and play my fiddle with pride,
    and thank God you’re a country boy.
    My Daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle,
    he taught me how to work and play a tune on the fiddle.
    He taught me how to love and how to give just a little,
    thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    (written by John Martin Sommers)

     

  7. The Eagle And The Hawk

    The Eagle And The Hawk

    I am the eagle, I live in high country in rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky.
    I am the hawk, and there’s blood on my feathers.
    But time is still turning, they soon will be dry.
    And all those who see me, and all who believe in me
    share in the freedom I feel when I fly.

    Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops.
    Sail o’er the canyons and up to the stars.
    And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
    and all that we can be, and not what we are.

    (written by John Denver and Mike Taylor)

  8. Spirit

    Spirit

    His spirit joined as so was formed ten thousand years ago.
    Between the swan and Hercules where even dark clouds glow.
    To live with grace, to ride the swell, to yet be strong of will.
    To love the wind, to learn its song, an empty space to fill.
    Apollo taught me to rhyme, Orpheus taught me to play.
    Andromeda cast down her sign and Vega lights my way.

    Smoke rings in a galaxy, an endless flight through time.
    Lyra gave her harp to him and left him free to climb.
    A winter’s journey from the moon to reach the summer sun.
    To rise again, to sing for you a song that’s yet unsung.
    Apollo taught me to rhyme, Orpheus taught me to play.
    Andromeda cast down her sign and Vega lights my way.

    His spirit joined as so was formed ten thousand years ago.
    Between the swan and Hercules where even dark clouds glow.
    To live with grace, to ride the swell, to yet be strong of will.
    To love the wind, to learn its song, an empty space to fill.

    (written by John Denver and Joe Henry)

  9. Calypso

    Calypso

    To sail on a dream on a crystal clear ocean, to ride on the crest of the wild raging storm.
    To work in the service of life and the living, in search of the answers to questions unknown.
    To be part of the movement and part of the growing, part of beginning to understand.
    Aye, Calypso, the place’s you’ve been to, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell.
    Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well.

    Like the dolphin who guides you, you bring us beside you
    to light up the darkness and show us the way.
    For though we are strangers in your silent world, to live on the land we must learn from the sea.
    To be true as the tide and free as a wind swell, joyful and loving in letting it be.
    Aye, Calypso, the place’s you’ve been to, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell.
    Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well.
    Aye, Calypso, the place’s you’ve been to, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell.
    Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well.

    (written by John Denver)

  10. Amsterdam

    Amsterdam

    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who sings
    of the dreams that he brings from the wide open seas.
    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who sleeps
    while the riverbank weeps through the old willow trees.
    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who dies full of beer,
    full of cries in a drunken down fight.
    In the port of Amsterdam, there a sailor who’s born
    on a muggy hot morn, by the dawn’s early light.

    In the port of Amsterdam, where the sailors all meet,
    there’s a sailor who eats only fish heads and tails.
    He will show you his teeth that have rotted too soon
    that can swallow the moon, that can haul up the sail.
    And he yells to the cook with his arms open wide, bring me more fish, put it down by my side.
    And he wants so to belch, but he’s too full to try
    so he gets up and he laughs, and he zips up his fly.

    In the port of Amsterdam, you can see sailors dance,
    haunchs bursting their pants, grinding women to paunch.
    They’ve forgotten the tune that their whisky voice croaked,
    and they’re spitting the night with the roar of their jokes.
    And they turn and they dance, and they laugh and they lust
    to the rancid sound of the accordian’s burst.
    then it’s out into the night with their pride in their pants
    and a slut that they tow underneath the street lamps.

    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who drinks.
    and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks once again.
    He drinks to the health of the whores of Amsterdam
    who have promised their love to a thousand other men.
    And they bargain their bodies and their virtue, long gone,
    for a few dirty coins, and when he can’t go on,
    he plants his nose in the sky and we wipes it up above
    then he splits like I cry for an unfaithful love,
    in the port of Amsterdam, in the port of Amsterdam, in the port of Amsterdam.

    (written by Jacques Brel & Mort Shuman)

     

  11. Annie’s Song

    Annie’s Song

    You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
    like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,
    like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
    You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

    Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,
    let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms,
    let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.
    Come let me love you, come love me again.

    You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
    like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,
    like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
    You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

    (written by John Denver)

  12. Take Me Home, Country Roads

    Take Me Home, Country Roads

    Almost heaven, West Virginia
    Blue Ridge Mountains
    Shenandoah River –
    Life is old there
    Older than the trees
    Younger than the mountains
    Growin like a breeze

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads

    All my memories gathered round her
    Miners lady, stranger to blue water
    Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
    Misty taste of moonshine
    Teardrops in my eye

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads

    I hear her voice
    In the mornin hour she calls me
    The radio reminds me of my home far away
    And drivin down the road I get a feelin
    That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads
    Take me home, now country roads
    Take me home, now country roads

    (written by John Denver, Taffy Nivert and Bill Danoff)

  13. Leaving, On A Jet Plane

    Leaving, On A Jet Plane

    All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go, I’m standing here outside your door,
    I hate to wake you up to say good-bye.
    But the dawn is breaking, it’s early morn, the taxi’s waiting He’s blowing his horn.
    Already I’m so lonesome I could die.
    So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go.
    ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

    There’s so many times I’ve let you down, so many times I’ve played around,
    I tell you now they don’t mean a thing.
    Every place I go I’ll think of you, every song I sing I’ll sing for you,
    when I come back, I’ll bring your wedding ring.
    So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go.
    ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

    Now the time has come to leave you, one more time let me kiss you,
    then close your eyes, I’ll be on my way.
    Dream about the days to come when I won’t have to leave alone,
    about the times I won’t have to say:
    kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go.
    ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.
    I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

    (written by John Denver)

     

  14. Fly Away (Previously Unreleased)

    Fly Away (Previously Unreleased)

    All of her days have gone soft and cloudy, all of her dreams have gone dry.
    All of her nights have gone sad and shady, She’s getting ready to fly.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away.

    Life in the city can make you crazy for sounds of the sand and the sea.
    Life in a high-rise can make you hungry for things that you can’t even see.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away.

    In this whole world there’s nobody as lonely as she,
    there’s nowhere to go and there’s nowhere that she’d rather be.
    She’s looking for lovers and children playing, she’s looking for signs of the spring.
    She listens for laughter and sounds of dancing, she listens for any old thing.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away .

    In this whole world there’s nobody as lonely as she,
    there’s nowhere to go and there’s nowhere that she’d rather be.
    All of her days have gone soft and cloudy, all of her dreams have gone dry.
    All of her nights have gone sad and shady, She’s getting ready to fly.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away, fly away.

    Where are my days, where are my nights? Where is the Spring? I wanna fly, I wanna fly…

    (written by John Denver)

  15. Rocky Mountain High (Previously Unreleased)

    Rocky Mountain High (Previously Unreleased)

    He was born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he’d never been before.
    He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again,
    you might say he found a key for every door.
    When he first came to the mountains, his life was far away on the road and hanging by a song.
    But the strings already broken and he doesn’t really care,
    it keeps changing fast, and it don’t last for long.

    And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    The shadows from the starlight are softer than a lullaby.
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.

    He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below,
    he saw everything as far as you can see.
    And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun,
    and he lost a friend, but kept the memory.
    Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the streams, seeking grace in every step he takes.
    His sight is turned inside himself, to try and understand
    the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake.

    And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply.
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.

    Now his life is full of wonder, but his heart still knows some fear,
    of a simple thing he can not comprehend.
    Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more,
    more people, more scars upon the land.

    And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    I know he’d be a poor man if he never saw an eagle fly,
    Rocky Mountain high, the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    Friends around the campfire and everybody’s high
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.

    (written by John Denver and Mike Taylor)

Track List
  1. Starwood In Aspen

    Starwood In Aspen

    It’s a long way from L.A. to Denver, it’s a long time to hang in the sky.
    It’s a long way home to Starwood in Aspen, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise,
    oh, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise.

    Springtime is rolling ’round slowly, gray skies are bringing me down.
    Can’t remember when I’ve ever been so lonely,
    I’ve forgot what it’s like to be home, can’t remember what it’s like to be home.

    I think of my lady’s sweet memory, I think on my children’s sweet smiles.
    I think of my home at Starwood in Aspen, all my friends and the snow-covered hills,
    oh, my friends are the snow-covered hills.

    Can I tell you I’m happy to be here to share and consider this time?
    For I see here the shadows of changes, and a feeling of new friends to find,
    and I see here some new friends to find.

    It’s a long way from this place to Denver, it’s a long time to hang in the sky.
    It’s a long way home to Starwood in Aspen, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise,
    oh, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise.

    (written by John Denver)

  2. Sunshine On My Shoulders

    Sunshine On My Shoulders

    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    If I had a day that I could give you, I’d give to you the day just like today.
    If I had a song that I could sing for you, I’d sing a song to make you feel this way.

    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    If I had a tale that I could tell you, I’d tell a tale sure to make you smile.
    If I had a wish that I could wish for you, I’d make a wish for sunshine for all the while.

    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy, sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.
    Sunshine on the water looks so lovely, sunshine almost always makes me high.
    Sunshine almost all the time makes me high.  Sunshine almost always…

    (written by John Denver)

  3. Back Home Again

    Back Home Again

    There’s a storm across the valley, clouds are rolling in,
    the afternoon is heavy on your shoulders.
    There’s a truck out on the four lane, a mile or more away,
    the whining of his wheels just makes it colder.

    He’s an hour away from riding on your prayers up in the sky
    and ten days on the road are barely gone.
    There’s a fire softly burning, supper’s on the stove,
    but it’s the light in your eyes that makes him warm.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    There’s all the news to tell him, how’s you spend your time,
    and what’s the latest thing the neighbors say?
    And your mother called last Friday, “Sunshine” made her cry
    and you felt the baby move just yesterday.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    Oh, the time that I can lay this tired old body down,
    and feel your fingers feather soft upon me.
    The kisses that I live for, the love that lights my way,
    the happiness that living with you brings me.

    It’s the sweetest thing I know of, just spending time with you.
    It’s the little things that make a house a home.
    Like a fire softly burning and supper on the stove,
    the light in your eyes that makes me warm.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    Hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.
    Yes, and hey, it’s good to be back home again.
    I said hey, it’s good to be back home again.

    (written by John Denver)

  4. Grandma’s Feather Bed

    Grandma’s Feather Bed

    When I was a little bitty boy, just up off a floor,
    we used to go down to Grandma’s house every month end or so.
    We’d have chicken pie and country ham, homemade butter on the bread.
    But the best darn thing about Grandma’s house was her great big feather bed.
    It was nine feet wide, and six feet high, soft as a downy chick
    It was made from the feathers of forty-eleven geese,
    took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick.
    It’d hold eight kids and four hound dogs and a piggy we stole from the shed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.

    After supper we’d sit around the fire, the old folks would spit and chew.
    Pa would talk about the farm and the war, and Granny’d sing a ballad or two.
    I’d sit and listen and watch the fire till the cobwebs filled my head,
    next thing I’d know I’d wake up in the morning
    in the middle of the old feather bed.

    It was nine feet wide, and six feet high, soft as a downy chick
    It was made from the feathers of forty-eleven geese,
    took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick.
    It’d hold eight kids and four hound dogs and a piggy we stole from the shed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.

    Well I love my Ma, I love my Pa, I love Granny and Grandpa too.
    I been fishing with my uncle, I ras’led with my cousin, I even kissed Aunt Lou, ewwww!
    But if I ever had to make a choice, I guess it oughta be said
    that I’d trade ’em all plus the gal down the road for Grandma’s feather bed.
    I’d trade ’em all plus the gal down the road…
    I’ll have to reconsider ’bout the gal down the road…

    It was nine feet wide, and six feet high, soft as a downy chick
    It was made from the feathers of forty-eleven geese,
    took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick.
    It’d hold eight kids and four hound dogs and a piggy we stole from the shed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.
    We didn’t get much sleep but we had a lot of fun on Grandma’s feather bed.

    (written by Jim Connor)

  5. Pickin’ The Sun Down

    Pickin’ The Sun Down

    Instrumental

  6. Thank God I’m A Country Boy

    Thank God I’m A Country Boy

    Well, life’s on a farm is kinda laid back,
    ain’t much an old country boy like me can’t hack.
    It’s early to rise, early in the sack thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, a simple kind of life never did me no harm,
    raising me a family and working on the farm.
    My days are all filled with an easy country charm, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    When the work’s all done and the sun’s setting low,
    I pull out my fiddle and I rosin up the bow.
    The kids are asleep so I keep it kinda low, thank God I’m a country boy.
    I’d play Sally Gooding all day if I could,
    but the lord and my wife wouldn’t take it very  good.
    So I fiddle when I can and I work when I should, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    I wouldn’t trade my life for diamonds or jewels,
    I never was one of them money hungry fools.
    I’d rather have my fiddle and my farming tools, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Yeah, city folk driving in a black limousine,
    a lotta sad people thinking that’s-a mighty keen.
    Son, let me tell you now exactly what I mean, thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    Well, my fiddle was my daddy’s till the day he died,
    and he took me by the hand and held me close to his  side.
    He said, “Live a good life and play my fiddle with pride,
    and thank God you’re a country boy.
    My Daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle,
    he taught me how to work and play a tune on the fiddle.
    He taught me how to love and how to give just a little,
    thank God I’m a country boy.
    Well, I got me a fine wife, I got me old fiddle.
    When the sun’s coming up, I got cakes on the griddle.
    And life ain’t nothing but a funny, funny riddle, thank God I’m a country boy.

    (written by John Martin Sommers)

     

  7. The Eagle And The Hawk

    The Eagle And The Hawk

    I am the eagle, I live in high country in rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky.
    I am the hawk, and there’s blood on my feathers.
    But time is still turning, they soon will be dry.
    And all those who see me, and all who believe in me
    share in the freedom I feel when I fly.

    Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops.
    Sail o’er the canyons and up to the stars.
    And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
    and all that we can be, and not what we are.

    (written by John Denver and Mike Taylor)

  8. Spirit

    Spirit

    His spirit joined as so was formed ten thousand years ago.
    Between the swan and Hercules where even dark clouds glow.
    To live with grace, to ride the swell, to yet be strong of will.
    To love the wind, to learn its song, an empty space to fill.
    Apollo taught me to rhyme, Orpheus taught me to play.
    Andromeda cast down her sign and Vega lights my way.

    Smoke rings in a galaxy, an endless flight through time.
    Lyra gave her harp to him and left him free to climb.
    A winter’s journey from the moon to reach the summer sun.
    To rise again, to sing for you a song that’s yet unsung.
    Apollo taught me to rhyme, Orpheus taught me to play.
    Andromeda cast down her sign and Vega lights my way.

    His spirit joined as so was formed ten thousand years ago.
    Between the swan and Hercules where even dark clouds glow.
    To live with grace, to ride the swell, to yet be strong of will.
    To love the wind, to learn its song, an empty space to fill.

    (written by John Denver and Joe Henry)

  9. Calypso

    Calypso

    To sail on a dream on a crystal clear ocean, to ride on the crest of the wild raging storm.
    To work in the service of life and the living, in search of the answers to questions unknown.
    To be part of the movement and part of the growing, part of beginning to understand.
    Aye, Calypso, the place’s you’ve been to, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell.
    Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well.

    Like the dolphin who guides you, you bring us beside you
    to light up the darkness and show us the way.
    For though we are strangers in your silent world, to live on the land we must learn from the sea.
    To be true as the tide and free as a wind swell, joyful and loving in letting it be.
    Aye, Calypso, the place’s you’ve been to, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell.
    Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well.
    Aye, Calypso, the place’s you’ve been to, the things that you’ve shown us, the stories you tell.
    Aye, Calypso, I sing to your spirit, the men who have served you so long and so well.

    (written by John Denver)

  10. Amsterdam

    Amsterdam

    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who sings
    of the dreams that he brings from the wide open seas.
    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who sleeps
    while the riverbank weeps through the old willow trees.
    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who dies full of beer,
    full of cries in a drunken down fight.
    In the port of Amsterdam, there a sailor who’s born
    on a muggy hot morn, by the dawn’s early light.

    In the port of Amsterdam, where the sailors all meet,
    there’s a sailor who eats only fish heads and tails.
    He will show you his teeth that have rotted too soon
    that can swallow the moon, that can haul up the sail.
    And he yells to the cook with his arms open wide, bring me more fish, put it down by my side.
    And he wants so to belch, but he’s too full to try
    so he gets up and he laughs, and he zips up his fly.

    In the port of Amsterdam, you can see sailors dance,
    haunchs bursting their pants, grinding women to paunch.
    They’ve forgotten the tune that their whisky voice croaked,
    and they’re spitting the night with the roar of their jokes.
    And they turn and they dance, and they laugh and they lust
    to the rancid sound of the accordian’s burst.
    then it’s out into the night with their pride in their pants
    and a slut that they tow underneath the street lamps.

    In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who drinks.
    and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks once again.
    He drinks to the health of the whores of Amsterdam
    who have promised their love to a thousand other men.
    And they bargain their bodies and their virtue, long gone,
    for a few dirty coins, and when he can’t go on,
    he plants his nose in the sky and we wipes it up above
    then he splits like I cry for an unfaithful love,
    in the port of Amsterdam, in the port of Amsterdam, in the port of Amsterdam.

    (written by Jacques Brel & Mort Shuman)

     

  11. Annie’s Song

    Annie’s Song

    You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
    like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,
    like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
    You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

    Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,
    let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms,
    let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you.
    Come let me love you, come love me again.

    You fill up my senses like a night in the forest,
    like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain,
    like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean.
    You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

    (written by John Denver)

  12. Take Me Home, Country Roads

    Take Me Home, Country Roads

    Almost heaven, West Virginia
    Blue Ridge Mountains
    Shenandoah River –
    Life is old there
    Older than the trees
    Younger than the mountains
    Growin like a breeze

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads

    All my memories gathered round her
    Miners lady, stranger to blue water
    Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
    Misty taste of moonshine
    Teardrops in my eye

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads

    I hear her voice
    In the mornin hour she calls me
    The radio reminds me of my home far away
    And drivin down the road I get a feelin
    That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads

    Country Roads, take me home
    To the place I belong
    West Virginia, mountain momma
    Take me home, country roads
    Take me home, now country roads
    Take me home, now country roads

    (written by John Denver, Taffy Nivert and Bill Danoff)

  13. Leaving, On A Jet Plane

    Leaving, On A Jet Plane

    All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go, I’m standing here outside your door,
    I hate to wake you up to say good-bye.
    But the dawn is breaking, it’s early morn, the taxi’s waiting He’s blowing his horn.
    Already I’m so lonesome I could die.
    So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go.
    ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

    There’s so many times I’ve let you down, so many times I’ve played around,
    I tell you now they don’t mean a thing.
    Every place I go I’ll think of you, every song I sing I’ll sing for you,
    when I come back, I’ll bring your wedding ring.
    So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go.
    ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

    Now the time has come to leave you, one more time let me kiss you,
    then close your eyes, I’ll be on my way.
    Dream about the days to come when I won’t have to leave alone,
    about the times I won’t have to say:
    kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go.
    ‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.
    I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. Oh, babe, I hate to go.

    (written by John Denver)

     

  14. Fly Away (Previously Unreleased)

    Fly Away (Previously Unreleased)

    All of her days have gone soft and cloudy, all of her dreams have gone dry.
    All of her nights have gone sad and shady, She’s getting ready to fly.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away.

    Life in the city can make you crazy for sounds of the sand and the sea.
    Life in a high-rise can make you hungry for things that you can’t even see.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away.

    In this whole world there’s nobody as lonely as she,
    there’s nowhere to go and there’s nowhere that she’d rather be.
    She’s looking for lovers and children playing, she’s looking for signs of the spring.
    She listens for laughter and sounds of dancing, she listens for any old thing.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away .

    In this whole world there’s nobody as lonely as she,
    there’s nowhere to go and there’s nowhere that she’d rather be.
    All of her days have gone soft and cloudy, all of her dreams have gone dry.
    All of her nights have gone sad and shady, She’s getting ready to fly.
    Fly away, fly away, fly away, fly away.

    Where are my days, where are my nights? Where is the Spring? I wanna fly, I wanna fly…

    (written by John Denver)

  15. Rocky Mountain High (Previously Unreleased)

    Rocky Mountain High (Previously Unreleased)

    He was born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he’d never been before.
    He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again,
    you might say he found a key for every door.
    When he first came to the mountains, his life was far away on the road and hanging by a song.
    But the strings already broken and he doesn’t really care,
    it keeps changing fast, and it don’t last for long.

    And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    The shadows from the starlight are softer than a lullaby.
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.

    He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below,
    he saw everything as far as you can see.
    And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun,
    and he lost a friend, but kept the memory.
    Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the streams, seeking grace in every step he takes.
    His sight is turned inside himself, to try and understand
    the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake.

    And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply.
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.

    Now his life is full of wonder, but his heart still knows some fear,
    of a simple thing he can not comprehend.
    Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more,
    more people, more scars upon the land.

    And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    I know he’d be a poor man if he never saw an eagle fly,
    Rocky Mountain high, the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.
    Friends around the campfire and everybody’s high
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.
    Rocky Mountain high, Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.

    (written by John Denver and Mike Taylor)

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