There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range. His horse and his cattle are his only companions.
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He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons, waiting for summer, his pastures to change.
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And as the moon rises he sits by his fire, thinking about women and glasses of beer.
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And closing his eyes as the doggies retire, he sings out a song which is soft but it's clear
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As if maybe someone could hear...
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Goodnight you moon light ladies, rock-a-bye sweet baby James.
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Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down in my dreams?
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And rock-a-bye sweet baby James.
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Now the first of December was covered with snow
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And so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston.
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Though the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting,
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With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go.
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There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway,
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A song that they sing when they take to the sea,
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A song that they sing of their home in the sky, maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep,
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But singing works just fine for me.
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So, goodnight you moon light ladies, rock-a-bye sweet baby James.
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Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose, won't you let me go down in my dreams?
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And rock-a-bye sweet baby James.
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Sweet Baby James
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| Carole King |
