Ripplin' Waters

John DenverJohn Denver 

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John Denver

Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr. (December 31, 1943 – October 12, 1997), known professionally as John Denver, was an American singer/songwriter, activist, and humanitarian. After traveling and living in numerous locations while growing up in his military family, Denver began his music career in folk music groups in the late 1960s. His greatest commercial success was as a solo singer. Throughout his life, Denver recorded and released approximately 300 songs, about 200 of which he composed. He performed primarily with an acoustic guitar and sang about his joy in nature, his enthusiasm for music, and relationship trials. Denver's music appeared on a variety of charts, including country and western, the Billboard Hot 100, and adult contemporary, in all earning him 1… more »

Year:

1977

3:57

101 Views

Playlists:

#1

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I've got rippling waters to wake me to the morning, my woman in love,
Tall pine trees are pointing us easily to Heaven above.
Blue Spruce flaming on the grate in the evening, takes the chill away fine,
Cut the telephone line, the story's the same.
There's a worn red chair by the window that she found at a sale down the way,
When some old woman said that they needed more room for the winter.
People like pulling out the stuffing when they sit down, so it passes the time,
Cut the telephone line, the story's the same.

Ooh, like a bubble on a windy day start to flutter when I hear you say,
That you feel too good to go away and you make me feel fine.
And you made the world a warmer place, by the sparkle of your diamond face.
On a gray spot, put a little lace and you make me feel fine,
Warm as a mountain sunshine, on the edge of a snowline, in a meadow of Columbine.

Oh, little Jennifer, I'd give a penny for what you've got on your mind,
Seems like most of the time you're lying there dreaming.
Maybe in your vision you see how our mission is, slightly less than defined,
Cut the telephone line, the story's the same.
Now rippling waters flow through the ceiling and the walls and they're keeping me warm
And the closest I've been to my family for days is my music.
But to silently stare in the morning sky is like hearing her calling my name,
Cut the telephone line, the story's the same.

Ooh, like a bubble on a windy day, start to flutter when I hear you say,
That you feel too good to go away and you make me feel fine.
Warm as a mountain sunshine, on the edge of a snowline, in a meadow of Columbine.

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