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Whose Garden Was This?

October 1970
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Side One
  1. Tremble If You Must

    Tremble If You Must

    So tremble if you must, for the dust is still breathing.
    And the trees are just the leaves on a big breathing globe.
    And there’s life in the rocks, and the seashells are listening
    to the sounds of the sands as it rests on its way.

    (written by Paul Potash)

  2. Sail Away Home

    Sail Away Home

    Sail away, sail away home. Sail away till you are gone.
    You have so far to go, there’s so much that you don’t know.
    Dream away, see what you find, yeah. Dream away, it’s all in your mind.
    Things that you’d like to see, things that you’d like to be.

    Don’t you know, it seems so wrong, yeah. Don’t you know, it’s gone on too long.
    I can’t take the guns anymore, I can’t take the screams anymore, I can’t take the pain.
    It’s got to stop, it’s got to change, it can’t go on, it can’t go on.

    Don’t you know, it’s gone on to long, yeah. Don’t you know, it seems so wrong.
    I can’t take the guns anymore, I can’t take the screams anymore, I can’t take the pain.
    It’s got to stop, it’s got to change, it can’t go on, it can’t go on.

    Find a way, I know you can. Find a way, I’ll give you my hand,
    We’re on our way back home, we’ve been a long time gone.
    Sail away, sail away home. Sail away, sail away home. Sail away, sail away home.

    (written by John Denver)

  3. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

    The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

    Virgil Caine is the name, I served on the Danville train.
    The stoneman’s cavalry came and tore up the tracks again.
    In the summer of ’65, we were hungry, just barely alive.
    By May the 10th Richmond had fell, was a time I remember oh, so well.
    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    Back home in Tennessee my wife called out to me.
    Said Virgil, come quick and see, there goes Robert E. Lee.
    I don’t mind chopping wood, and I don’t care if the money ain’t good.
    You take what you need and save the rest, but they should never have taken the very best.
    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    Like my father before me, he was a working man.
    Like my brother above me, he took a rebel stand.
    Was just 18, proud and brave when a Yankee laid him in his grave.
    I swear by the blood beneath my feet, you can’t raise a Cain back up when he’s in defeat.
    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    (written by Robbie Robertson)

  4. Mr. Bojangles

    Mr. Bojangles

    Knew a man, Bojangles, and he danced for you in worn out shoes.
    Silver hair, ragged shirt and baggy pants, the old soft shoe.
    He jumped so high, he jumped so high, then he’d lightly touch down.
    Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

    Met him in a cell, in New Orleans it was, down and out.
    He looked to me to be the eyes of age as he spoke right out.
    He talked of life, he talked of life. He laughed, slapped his leg and stared.
    He said his name, Bojangles, and he danced a lick across the cell.
    He grabbed his pants and took a stance and he jumped so high, he clicked his heels.
    He let go a laugh, he let go a laugh, shook his clothes all around.
    Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

    He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughout the South.
    He spoke in tears of 15 years how his dog and him, they traveled about.
    The dog up and died, he up and died. After 20 years he still grieves.
    He said, I dance now at every chance and honky-tonks for drinks and tips.
    But most the time I spend behind these county bars ’cause I drinks a bit.
    He shook his head now, he shook his head and I heard someone ask please,
    Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, hey, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

    (written by Jerry Jeff Walker)

  5. I Wish I Could Have Been There (Woodstock)

    I Wish I Could Have Been There (Woodstock)

    I wish I could have been there on the highway
    When the people came from miles around to see
    The children of the flowers came together
    I wish I could have been there in the sunshine
    With the sound of lovely laughter in the air
    And the music makers first began to play
    To hear them play

    And I wish I could have been there in the rain
    When the clouds were silver castles in the sky
    And I wish I could have heard the people sing
    As the rhythm and the words came floating by

    I wish I could have been there in the starlight
    When the countryside was quiet once again
    And the music and the makers, the poets and the singers
    And the children of the flowers all had gone

    written by John Denver

Side Two
  1. Whose Garden Was This

    Whose Garden Was This

    Whose garden was this? It must have been lovely. Did it have flowers?
    I’ve seen pictures of flowers, and I’d love to have smelled one.
    Whose river was this? You say it ran freely. Blue was it’s color.
    I’ve seen blue in some pictures, and I’d love to have been there.

    Tell me again I need to know. The forest had trees, the meadows were green.
    The oceans were blue and birds really flew. Can you swear that it’s true?

    Whose gray sky was this? Or was it a blue one? You say there were breezes.
    I’ve heard records of breezes and I’d love to have felt one.

    Tell me again I need to know. The forest had trees, the meadows were green.
    The oceans were blue and birds really flew. Can you swear that it’s true?

    Whose garden was this? It must have been lovely. Did it have flowers?
    I’ve seen pictures of flowers, and I’d love to have smelled one.
    Tell me again I need to know, tell me again I need to know.
    Tell me again I need to know, tell me again I need to know.

    (written by Tom Paxton)

  2. The Game Is Over

    The Game Is Over

    Time, there was a time, you could talk to me without speaking.
    You would look at me and I’d know all there was to know.
    Days I think of you and remember the lies we told in the night.
    The love we knew, the things we shared when our hearts were beating together.

    Days that were so few full of love and you.
    Gone, the days are gone now, days that seem so wrong now.
    Life won’t be the same without you to hold again in my arms to ease the pain.
    And remember when our love was a reason for living.

    Days that were so few full of love and you. The game is over.

    (written by John Denver, Jean Pierre Bourtayre & Jean Bouchety)

  3. Eleanor Rigby

    Eleanor Rigby

    Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people.
    Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been, lives in a dream.
    Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for?
    All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
    All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

    Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear, no one comes near.
    Look at him working. Darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there,
    what does he care?
    All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
    All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

    Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people.

    Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name, nobody came.
    Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave, no one was saved.
    All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
    All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

    Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people.

    (written by John Lennon & Paul McCartney)

  4. Old Folks

    Old Folks

    The old folks don’t talk much
    They talk so slowly when they do
    They are rich they are poor
    Their illusions are gone
    They share one heart for two

    Their homes all smell of time
    Of old photographs
    and an old fashioned song
    Though you may live in town
    You live so far away
    when you’ve lived too long

    Have they laughed too much
    Do their dry voices crack
    talking of things gone by
    have they cried too much
    A tear or two still always seems
    To cloud the eye

    They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
    When day is through
    tick tock oh so slow
    It says yes it says no
    It says I wait for you

    The old folks dream no more
    Their books have gone to sleep
    the piano’s out of tune
    the little cat is dead
    and no more do they sing on a sunday afternoon

    The old folks move no more
    Their world become to small
    their bodies feel like lead
    they might look out a window
    or else sit it a chair
    or else they stay in bed

    and if they still go out
    arm in arm, arm in arm
    in the morning chill
    its to have a good cry
    to say their last goodbye
    to one who’s older still
    and then they go home
    to the old silver clock
    when day is through
    tick tock so so slow
    it says yes it says no
    it says I wait for you

    the old folks never die
    they just put down their heads
    and go to sleep one day
    they will hold each others hands
    like children in the dark
    but one will get lost anyway
    and the other will remain
    just sitting in a room
    which makes no sound
    it doesn’t matter now
    the song has died away
    and echo’s all around

    you’ll see them as they walk
    through the sun filled parks
    where children run and play
    it hurst to much to smile
    it hurts so much
    but life goes on for still another day
    as they try to escape the old silver clock
    when day is through
    tick tock oh so slow
    it says yes it says no
    it says I wait for you

    the old old silver clock
    thats hanging on the wall
    that waits for us all.

    (written by Jacques Brel, Mort Shuman, Gerard Jouannest, & Jean Corti)

  5. Golden Slumbers/Sweet Sweet Life/Tremble If You Must (Version II)

    Golden Slumbers/Sweet Sweet Life/Tremble If You Must (Version II)

    Medley

    Once there was a way to get back homeward
    Once there was a way to get back home
    Sleep pretty darling do not cry
    And I will sing a lullabye

    Golden slumbers fill your eyes
    Smiles awake you when you rise
    Sleep pretty darling do not cry
    And I will sing a lullabye

    Once there was a way to get back homeward
    Once there was a way to get back home
    Sleep pretty darling do not cry
    And I will sing a lullabye

    Sweet, sweet life
    I’m living to-day
    Dont bring me down
    Don’t go away
    Give me just one more chance
    To make you want to stay
    Yeah! Sweet, sweet, sweet life
    I’m living, I’m living today
    Dont bring me down,
    Don’t go away
    Don’t go away
    Please don’t go away

    So tremble if you must.
    For the dust is still breathing.
    And the trees are just the leaves
    On a big breathing globe.
    And there’s life in the rocks.
    And the seashells are listening
    To the sounds of the sands
    As it rests on its way.

    Mmmm….

     

    (Golden Slumbers written by Lennon/McCartney)
    (Sweet Sweet Life written John Denver)
    (Tremble If You Must Paul Potash)

  6. Jingle Bells (adapted by John Denver)

    Jingle Bells (adapted by John Denver)

    Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
    Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
    Oh, what fun it was to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

Side One
  1. Tremble If You Must

    Tremble If You Must

    So tremble if you must, for the dust is still breathing.
    And the trees are just the leaves on a big breathing globe.
    And there’s life in the rocks, and the seashells are listening
    to the sounds of the sands as it rests on its way.

    (written by Paul Potash)

  2. Sail Away Home

    Sail Away Home

    Sail away, sail away home. Sail away till you are gone.
    You have so far to go, there’s so much that you don’t know.
    Dream away, see what you find, yeah. Dream away, it’s all in your mind.
    Things that you’d like to see, things that you’d like to be.

    Don’t you know, it seems so wrong, yeah. Don’t you know, it’s gone on too long.
    I can’t take the guns anymore, I can’t take the screams anymore, I can’t take the pain.
    It’s got to stop, it’s got to change, it can’t go on, it can’t go on.

    Don’t you know, it’s gone on to long, yeah. Don’t you know, it seems so wrong.
    I can’t take the guns anymore, I can’t take the screams anymore, I can’t take the pain.
    It’s got to stop, it’s got to change, it can’t go on, it can’t go on.

    Find a way, I know you can. Find a way, I’ll give you my hand,
    We’re on our way back home, we’ve been a long time gone.
    Sail away, sail away home. Sail away, sail away home. Sail away, sail away home.

    (written by John Denver)

  3. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

    The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

    Virgil Caine is the name, I served on the Danville train.
    The stoneman’s cavalry came and tore up the tracks again.
    In the summer of ’65, we were hungry, just barely alive.
    By May the 10th Richmond had fell, was a time I remember oh, so well.
    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    Back home in Tennessee my wife called out to me.
    Said Virgil, come quick and see, there goes Robert E. Lee.
    I don’t mind chopping wood, and I don’t care if the money ain’t good.
    You take what you need and save the rest, but they should never have taken the very best.
    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    Like my father before me, he was a working man.
    Like my brother above me, he took a rebel stand.
    Was just 18, proud and brave when a Yankee laid him in his grave.
    I swear by the blood beneath my feet, you can’t raise a Cain back up when he’s in defeat.
    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    The night they drove old Dixie down, and the bells were ringing.
    The night they drove old Dixie down and the people were singing.
    They went la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la.

    (written by Robbie Robertson)

  4. Mr. Bojangles

    Mr. Bojangles

    Knew a man, Bojangles, and he danced for you in worn out shoes.
    Silver hair, ragged shirt and baggy pants, the old soft shoe.
    He jumped so high, he jumped so high, then he’d lightly touch down.
    Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

    Met him in a cell, in New Orleans it was, down and out.
    He looked to me to be the eyes of age as he spoke right out.
    He talked of life, he talked of life. He laughed, slapped his leg and stared.
    He said his name, Bojangles, and he danced a lick across the cell.
    He grabbed his pants and took a stance and he jumped so high, he clicked his heels.
    He let go a laugh, he let go a laugh, shook his clothes all around.
    Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

    He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughout the South.
    He spoke in tears of 15 years how his dog and him, they traveled about.
    The dog up and died, he up and died. After 20 years he still grieves.
    He said, I dance now at every chance and honky-tonks for drinks and tips.
    But most the time I spend behind these county bars ’cause I drinks a bit.
    He shook his head now, he shook his head and I heard someone ask please,
    Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, hey, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

    (written by Jerry Jeff Walker)

  5. I Wish I Could Have Been There (Woodstock)

    I Wish I Could Have Been There (Woodstock)

    I wish I could have been there on the highway
    When the people came from miles around to see
    The children of the flowers came together
    I wish I could have been there in the sunshine
    With the sound of lovely laughter in the air
    And the music makers first began to play
    To hear them play

    And I wish I could have been there in the rain
    When the clouds were silver castles in the sky
    And I wish I could have heard the people sing
    As the rhythm and the words came floating by

    I wish I could have been there in the starlight
    When the countryside was quiet once again
    And the music and the makers, the poets and the singers
    And the children of the flowers all had gone

    written by John Denver

Side Two
  1. Whose Garden Was This

    Whose Garden Was This

    Whose garden was this? It must have been lovely. Did it have flowers?
    I’ve seen pictures of flowers, and I’d love to have smelled one.
    Whose river was this? You say it ran freely. Blue was it’s color.
    I’ve seen blue in some pictures, and I’d love to have been there.

    Tell me again I need to know. The forest had trees, the meadows were green.
    The oceans were blue and birds really flew. Can you swear that it’s true?

    Whose gray sky was this? Or was it a blue one? You say there were breezes.
    I’ve heard records of breezes and I’d love to have felt one.

    Tell me again I need to know. The forest had trees, the meadows were green.
    The oceans were blue and birds really flew. Can you swear that it’s true?

    Whose garden was this? It must have been lovely. Did it have flowers?
    I’ve seen pictures of flowers, and I’d love to have smelled one.
    Tell me again I need to know, tell me again I need to know.
    Tell me again I need to know, tell me again I need to know.

    (written by Tom Paxton)

  2. The Game Is Over

    The Game Is Over

    Time, there was a time, you could talk to me without speaking.
    You would look at me and I’d know all there was to know.
    Days I think of you and remember the lies we told in the night.
    The love we knew, the things we shared when our hearts were beating together.

    Days that were so few full of love and you.
    Gone, the days are gone now, days that seem so wrong now.
    Life won’t be the same without you to hold again in my arms to ease the pain.
    And remember when our love was a reason for living.

    Days that were so few full of love and you. The game is over.

    (written by John Denver, Jean Pierre Bourtayre & Jean Bouchety)

  3. Eleanor Rigby

    Eleanor Rigby

    Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people.
    Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been, lives in a dream.
    Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for?
    All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
    All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

    Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear, no one comes near.
    Look at him working. Darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there,
    what does he care?
    All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
    All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

    Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people.

    Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name, nobody came.
    Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave, no one was saved.
    All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
    All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

    Ah, look at all the lonely people. Ah, look at all the lonely people.

    (written by John Lennon & Paul McCartney)

  4. Old Folks

    Old Folks

    The old folks don’t talk much
    They talk so slowly when they do
    They are rich they are poor
    Their illusions are gone
    They share one heart for two

    Their homes all smell of time
    Of old photographs
    and an old fashioned song
    Though you may live in town
    You live so far away
    when you’ve lived too long

    Have they laughed too much
    Do their dry voices crack
    talking of things gone by
    have they cried too much
    A tear or two still always seems
    To cloud the eye

    They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
    When day is through
    tick tock oh so slow
    It says yes it says no
    It says I wait for you

    The old folks dream no more
    Their books have gone to sleep
    the piano’s out of tune
    the little cat is dead
    and no more do they sing on a sunday afternoon

    The old folks move no more
    Their world become to small
    their bodies feel like lead
    they might look out a window
    or else sit it a chair
    or else they stay in bed

    and if they still go out
    arm in arm, arm in arm
    in the morning chill
    its to have a good cry
    to say their last goodbye
    to one who’s older still
    and then they go home
    to the old silver clock
    when day is through
    tick tock so so slow
    it says yes it says no
    it says I wait for you

    the old folks never die
    they just put down their heads
    and go to sleep one day
    they will hold each others hands
    like children in the dark
    but one will get lost anyway
    and the other will remain
    just sitting in a room
    which makes no sound
    it doesn’t matter now
    the song has died away
    and echo’s all around

    you’ll see them as they walk
    through the sun filled parks
    where children run and play
    it hurst to much to smile
    it hurts so much
    but life goes on for still another day
    as they try to escape the old silver clock
    when day is through
    tick tock oh so slow
    it says yes it says no
    it says I wait for you

    the old old silver clock
    thats hanging on the wall
    that waits for us all.

    (written by Jacques Brel, Mort Shuman, Gerard Jouannest, & Jean Corti)

  5. Golden Slumbers/Sweet Sweet Life/Tremble If You Must (Version II)

    Golden Slumbers/Sweet Sweet Life/Tremble If You Must (Version II)

    Medley

    Once there was a way to get back homeward
    Once there was a way to get back home
    Sleep pretty darling do not cry
    And I will sing a lullabye

    Golden slumbers fill your eyes
    Smiles awake you when you rise
    Sleep pretty darling do not cry
    And I will sing a lullabye

    Once there was a way to get back homeward
    Once there was a way to get back home
    Sleep pretty darling do not cry
    And I will sing a lullabye

    Sweet, sweet life
    I’m living to-day
    Dont bring me down
    Don’t go away
    Give me just one more chance
    To make you want to stay
    Yeah! Sweet, sweet, sweet life
    I’m living, I’m living today
    Dont bring me down,
    Don’t go away
    Don’t go away
    Please don’t go away

    So tremble if you must.
    For the dust is still breathing.
    And the trees are just the leaves
    On a big breathing globe.
    And there’s life in the rocks.
    And the seashells are listening
    To the sounds of the sands
    As it rests on its way.

    Mmmm….

     

    (Golden Slumbers written by Lennon/McCartney)
    (Sweet Sweet Life written John Denver)
    (Tremble If You Must Paul Potash)

  6. Jingle Bells (adapted by John Denver)

    Jingle Bells (adapted by John Denver)

    Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
    Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
    Oh, what fun it was to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.

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