John Denver

^D I often had wand ^G ered, ^A in dee ^Bm p co ^G ntemplation ^D
G It ^A seems that the mind ^D runs w ^A ild wh ^G en you ^Bm ?re all alone ^A
The way ^G that it could b ^D e, the ways ^G that i ^A t should be ^D
Th ^G ings I?d do d ^A iffer ^D-A-G ently, if I could do th ^A em again ^D
D I?ve always loved springtime ^G , the ^A passin ^Bm g of ^G winter ^D
G The gre ^A en of the new lea ^D ves ^A-G and life goi ^Bm n? on ^A
The promi ^G se of morning, ^D the long da ^G ys of ^A summer ^D
Wa ^G rm nights ^A of loving h ^D er, ^A-G beneath ^A the bright stars ^D
D I?m just an old cowboy ^G , from ^A high ^Bm Color ^G ado ^D
G To ol ^A d to rid ^D e anym ^A-G ore, too blind t ^Bm o see ^A
I sl ^G eep in the city ^D now, away fr ^G-A om my mountains ^D
G Aw ^-A ay from the cabi ^D-A-G n we always ^A called home ^D
D I dr ^G eamed I left ^D there, on an ^G old pal ^A amino ^D
G Whisp ^A ering Jes ^D-A-G se rode righ ^Bm t by my side ^A
I lo ^G ng to hold ^D her, to he ^G ar h ^A er soft breathing ^D
G The tou ^A ch of her cool han ^D-A-G d, on my fever ^A ed brow ^D

Whi ^A spering Jess ^D-A-G e, still rid ^A es in the mountains ^D
G Still sings i ^A n the canyons ^D , still ^G lives ^A in my heart ^D
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