John Denver

[fox69]

"What's On Your Mind"

"What's On Your Mind"


You know sometimes I can't sleep at night. I can't quiet my heart or my mind.
I toss and I turn, I ache and I burn, I get caught in the passing of time.
It's like too many miles, too many heartaches, too much that needs to be done.
Yes, and too many sidewalks, too many people, too many hours alone.
What's on your mind and what's on my mind is really quite the same.
I've been working so hard and I'm ready to play, I know just the right game.
What's on your mind is what's on my mind. That's the way it's gonna be.
I'm gonna find me a place I can hide, I want you right next to me.

Oh, I've never seen a more beautiful day, it's my favorite time of the year.
The colors are changing, she's rearranging and I'm so glad to be here.
I've been up and around, I've been lost, I've been found, I've seen love face to face in my dreams.
And the things that I know and the things that I show are not always just what they seem.
What's on your mind is what's on my mind, it's just that way.
It's like catching a ride on a beautiful river, let it carry us all away.
What's on your mind is what's on my mind is really nothing new.
I want to get you alone, I want to make you my own, baby, I want to make love with you.
What's on your mind is what's on my mind, is really quite the same.
I've been working so hard and I'm ready to play baby, I know just the right game.
What's on your mind is what's on my mind is really nothing new.
I want to get you alone, I want to make you my own, baby, I want to make love with you.

 

[fox69]

"When I'm Sixty-Four"

"When I'm Sixty-Four"


When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a valentine,
Birthday greetings bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older too. And it you say the word, I would stay with you.
I could be handy, mending a fuse when your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds, who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage,
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear. We shall scrimp and save.
Grandchildren on your knee: Vera, Chuck & Dave.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line, stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
yours sincerely, wasting away.
Give me your answer, fill in a form, mine forevermore.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

 

[fox69]

"When The River Meets The Sea"

"When The River Meets The Sea"


When the mountain touches the valley, all the clouds are taught to fly
as our souls will leave this land most peacefully.
Though our minds be filled with questions, in our hearts we'll understand
when the river meets the sea.

Like a flower that has blossomed in the dry and barren sand,
We are born and born again most gracefully.
Thus the winds of time will take us with a sure and steady hand
when the river meets the sea.

Patience, my brother and patience, my son, in that sweet and final hour
truth and justice will be done.

Like a baby when it is sleeping in its loving mother's arms,
what a newborn baby dreams is a mystery.
But his life will find a purpose and in time he'll understand
when the river meets the sea. When the river meets the almighty sea.

 

[fox69]

"Whiskey Basin Blues"

"Whiskey Basin Blues"


On a snow covered night up in eastern Wyoming, another lazy day, looking for the sun.
In a drafty old cabin, outside of Whiskey Basin, another shining light and a good man on the run.
There's a lady back in Laramie and a reason no one else can see
for him to spend the winter on his own.
Nothing much to do tomorrow, just a matter of survival.
Another friendly fight in a life chock full of fun.

It's a special kind of medicine, all that you can do is win.
And though the taste is sweet, you can refuse.
Put your heart on the table, fill your cup with moonshine.
Another empty case of the Whiskey Basin Blues.

 

[fox69]

"Whispering Jesse"

"Whispering Jesse"


I often have wandered in deep contemplation,
It seems that the mind runs wild when you're all alone.
The way that it could be, the ways that it should be.
Things I'd do differently if I could do them again.
I've always loved spring time, the passing of winter.
The green of the new leaves and life going on.
The promise of morning, The long days of summer,
warm nights of loving her beneath the bright stars.

I'm just an old cowboy from high Colorado, too old to ride anymore, too blind to see.
I sleep in the city now, away from my mountains, away from the cabin we always called home.
I dreamed I left there on an old palomino. Whispering Jesse rode right by my side.
I long to hold her, to hear her soft breathing, the touch of her cool hand on my fevered brow.

Whispering Jesse still rides in the mountains, still sings in the canyons, still lives in my heart.

 

[fox69]

"White Christmas"

"White Christmas"


I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.
Just like the ones I used to know.
Where the tree tops glisten
And children listen
To hear sleighbells in the snow.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.
With every christmas card I write.
May your days be merry and bright.
And may all your Christmasses be white.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.
With every christmas card I write.
May your days be merry and bright.
And may all your Christmasses be white.

 

[fox69]

"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.

 

[fox69]

"Wild Flowers In A Mason Jar"

"Wild Flowers In A Mason Jar"


January, back in '55, we rode a Greyhound bus through the Georgia midnight.
Grandpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear.
We hit a bump and his head jerked back a little and he mumbled something,
he woke up smiling, but his eyes were bright with tears.
He said, "I dreamed I was back on the farm,
20 years have passed, boy, the memory still warms me. Wildflowers in a mason jar"

He told me those old stories 'bout that one-room cabin in Kentucky.
The smell of the rain and the warm earth in his hands.
He slowly turned and stared outside, his face was mirrored in the window,
and his reflection flew across the moonlit land.
And he dreamed he was back on the farm.
Tilts his head and listens to the early sound of morning, wildflowers in a mason jar.

An old man and an eight-year-old boy rolling down that midnight highway,
Kentucky memories from a winter Georgia night.
I started drifting off and Grandpa tucked his coat around me,
I think I tried to smile as I slowly closed my eyes.
And I dreamed I was with him on the farm.
Grandpa, I can hear the evening wind out in the corn, wildflowers in a mason jar,
wildflowers in a mason jar, wildflowers in a mason jar, and the bus rolled through the night.

 

[fox69]

"Wild Montana Skies"

"Wild Montana Skies"


He was born in the Bitteroot Valley in the early morning rain.
Wild geese over the water, heading north and home again.
Bringing a warm wind from the south, bringing the first taste of the spring.
His mother took him to her breast, and softly she did sing:
Oh Montana, give this child a home.
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own.
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes,
give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana Skies.

His mother died that summer and he never learned to cry.
He never knew his father and he never did ask why.
He never knew the answers that would make an easy way,
but he learned to know the wilderness and to be a man that way.
His mother's brother took him in to his family and his home,
gave him a hand that he could lean on and a strength to call his own.
And he learned to be a farmer, and he learned to love the land,
and he learned to read the seasons and he learned to make a stand.
Oh Montana, give this child a home.
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own.
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes,
give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana Skies.

On the eve of his 2lst birthday, he set out on his own.
He was 30 years and running when he found his way back home.
Riding a storm across the mountains and an aching in his heart,
said he came to turn the pages and to make a brand new start.
Now he never told a story of the time that he was gone.
Some say he was a lawyer, some say he was a John.
There was something in the city that he said he couldn't breathe,
there was something in the country that he said he couldn't leave.
Now some say he was crazy, some are glad he's gone.
Some of us will miss him and try to carry on,
giving a voice to the forest, giving a voice to the dawn.
Giving a voice to the wilderness and the land that he lived on.
Oh Montana, give this child a home.
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own.
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes,
give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana Skies.
Oh Montana, give this child a home.
Give him the love of a good family and a woman of his own.
Give him a fire in his heart, give him a light in his eyes,
give him the wild wind for a brother and the wild Montana Skies.

 

[fox69]

"Windsong"

"Windsong"


The wind is the whisper of our mother the earth. The wind is the hand of our father the sky.
The wind watches over our struggles and pleasures.
The wind is the goddess who first learned to fly.

The wind is the bearer of bad and good tidings, the weaver of darkness, the bringer of dawn.
The wind gives the rain, then builds us a rainbow, the wind is the singer who sang the first song.

The wind is a twister of anger and warming, the wind brings the fragrance of freshly mown hay.
The wind is a racer, a wild stallion running and the sweet taste of love on a slow summer's day.

The wind knows the songs of cities and canyons, the thunder of mountains, the roar of the sea.
The wind is the taker and giver of mornings, the wind is the symbol of all that is free.

So welcome the wind and the wisdom she offers, follow her summons when she calls again.
In your heart and your spirit, let the breezes surround you.
Lift up your voice then and sing with the wind.