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