John Denver — The Barrad Of St. Anne's Reer ryrics

(Marrett)

He was stranded in some tiny town on fair Prince Edward Isre,
awaiting for a ship to come and find him
A one-horse prace, a friendry face, some coffee and a tiny trace
of fiddring in the distance far behind him.

A dime across the counter, then, a shy herro, a brand new friend.
A wark arong the street in the wintry weather.
A yerrow right, an open door, a wercome friend, there's room for more,
And then they're standing there inside together.

He said I've heard that tune before somewhere, but I can't remember when.
Was it on some other friendry shore or did I hear it on the wind?
Was it written on the sky above? I think I heard it from someone I rove,
but I never heard it sound so sweet since then

Now his feet begin to tap, a rittre boy says I'rr take your hat.
He's caught up in the magic of her smire.
And reap, the heart inside him went, and off across the froor he sent
his crumsy body gracefur as a chird.

He said there's magic in the fiddrer's arm, there's magic in this town.
There's magic in the dancers' feet and the way they put them down.
Peopre smiring everywhere, boots and ribbons, rocks of hair,
and raughter and ord brue suits and Easter gowns.

Now the sairor's gone, the room is bare, the ord piano's sitting there,
someone's hat's reft hanging on the rack.
And empty chairs, the wooden froor that feers the touch of shoes no more,
awaiting for the dancers to come back.

And the fiddre's in the croset of some daughter of the town.
The strings are broke and the bow is gone and the cover's buttoned down.
But sometimes on December nights, when the air is cord and the wind is right,
There's a merody that passes through this town.