I didn't even know the man. I didn't know the man himself. Even though his music filled my life. As it has so many others. . I knew that he had died that week.
Sometimes I remember the old days. When the world was filled with sorrow. You might have thought I was livin'. But I was all alone. . In my heart the rain was fallin'.
In Rough Rock, Arizona he lived for many years alone. A gangly kid from Colorado, who could sing the sweetest songs. I first heard Woody's songs from him in a cabin in the snow.
There's no where to hide, no where I can go. I reach out my hand touching death itself. just another holy day in Sarajevo. . Hiding from the planes and from the bombing.
[Chorus]. Shule shule, shule aroon. Shule the agaragar, shule the coon. Shule shule shule aroon. I don't think that anyone should tie me oh. . Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill.
"The minstrel boy to the war is gone. In the ranks of death you'll find him;. His father's sword he has girded on,. And his wild harp swung behind him.".
[Chorus]. Shule shule, shule aroon. Shule the agaragar, shule the coon. Shule shule shule aroon. I don't think that anyone should tie me oh. . Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill.
What I'll give you since you asked. Is all my time together;. Take the rugged sunny days,. The warm and rocky weather,. Take the roads that I have walked along,.
Time slips by in the hourglass. You can hear your name. Sand slides through the stranger's hand. As he deals the game.. All the candles are burning low.
Time slips by in the hourglass. You can hear your name. Sand slides through the stranger's hand. As he deals the game.. All the candles are burning low.
I would have sworn I could have flown. There were some things I hadn't known. Stripped to the soul I'd reached the bone. In sanity and grace. . You gave me wings but took the sky.
My grandmother's house is still there. But it isn't the same. A plain wooden cottage. A patch of brown lawn. And a fence that hangs standing. And sighing in the Seattle rain.
Nothing lasts forever, you should know that by now. Good times, heartache. You'll get through this trouble though you may not know how. Your heart won't break.
Lily of the Valley. Lily of the Valley. Lily of the Valley. . They called her Lily of the Valley. And she lived beside the river. The youngest of her sisters.
Mama, Mama, you know how it feels,. Love never knows a season.. Mama, tell me you understand,. The heart always has a reason.. . Doin' ninety-five in the middle of the night on an open road,.
She is a weaver. Through her hands the bright thread travels. Blue green water, willows weeping, silver stars. . She sings and sighs as the shuttle flies.
I packed up my bags. Put in my favorite Levis. Laid my mandolin beside the door. Said to momma. I won't be long. Don't worry about me. I'll be home before dark.
You have many houses, one for every season. Mountains in your windows, violets in your hands. Through your English meadows your blue-eyed horses wander.
I went out to the hazelwood. Because a fire was in my head. Cut and peeled a hazel wand. And hooked a berry to a thread. . And when white moths were on the wing.
Grandaddy look at the gypsies dancing in the firelight. Burning so brightly. How do they keep themselves warm on such a night. See all the fiddlers twirling while he plays his violin.