| Song | Outside The Nashville City Limits |
| Artist | Joan Baez |
| Album | Blessed Are... |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| (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) |
| 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. | |
| Freshcut 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 awalking 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 |
| 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. | |
| Freshcut 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 awalking 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 |