13 acessos
There is a young cowboy,
he lives on a range.
His horse and his cattle are his only companion.
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons...
Waitin' for summer his pastures to change.
And as the moon rises he sits by his fire, thinkin' about women and glasses of beer
and closing his eyes as the doggies retire.
He sings out a song wich is soft but it's clear...
As if maybe someone could hear.
Good night you, moonlight ladies, rock by sweet baby James, deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down on my dreams?
And rock by sweet baby James.
Now the first of december was covered with snow...
And so was the turnpike from stock bridge to Boston.
Lord the Berkshire seemed dream like on account of that frosten, with ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go...
There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway.
A song that they sing when they take to the sea.
A song that they sing of their home in the sky, maybe you can believe it if helps you to sleep.
But singing works just fine for me.
So, good night you, moonlight ladies, rock by sweet baby James, deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down on my dreams?
And rock by sweet baby James.