(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

    Outside the Nashville city limits
    a friend and I did drive,
    on a day in early winter
    I was glad to be alive.
    We went to see some friends of his
    who lived upon a farm.
    Strange and gentle country folk
    who would wish nobody harm.
    Fresh-cut sixty acres,
    eight cows in the barn.
    But the thing that I remember
    on that cold day in December
    was that my eyes they did brim over
    as we talked.

    In the slowest drawl I had ever heard
    the man said "Come with me
    if y'all wanna see the prettiest place
    in all of Tennesee."
    He poured us each a glass of wine
    and a-walking we did go,
    along fallen leaves and crackling ice
    where a tiny brook did flow.
    He knew every inch of the land
    and Lord he loved it so.
    But the thing that I remember
    on that cold day in December
    was that my eyes were brimming over
    as we walked.

    He set my down upon a stone
    beside a running spring.
    He talked in a voice so soft and clear
    like the waters I heard sing.
    He said "We searched quite a time
    for a place to call our own.
    There was just me and Mary John
    and now I guess we're home."
    I looked at the ground and wondered
    how many years they each had roamed.
    And Lord I do remember
    on that day in late December
    how my eyes kept brimming over
    as we talked.
    As we walked.

    And standing there with outstretched arms
    he said to me "You know,
    I can't wait till the heavy storms
    cover the ground with snow,
    and there on the pond the watercress
    is all that don't turn white.
    When the sun is high you squint your eyes
    and look at the hills so bright."
    And nodding his head my friend said,
    "And it seems like overnight
    that the leaves come out so tender
    at the turning of the winter..."
    I thought the skies they would brim over
    as we talked.

    © 1970, 1971 Chandos Music (ASCAP)

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