Cottonwoods

(Carleen McCornack)

The cotton is flying down the streets of the city,
It flows free and easy as it rides on the wind,
Blowing from the branches of the trees by the river,
The sweet smell of breezes through the cottonwoods again.

The blackbirds are calling from their homes in the willows,
In big open meadows they welcome the day,
Their red wings go flying o'er the fields or the valleys,
The warm winds are sighing through the cottonwoods again.

Born in the valley where the cottonwoods grow,
Lining the river, making it snow.

The sun in the morning warms the air, cool and misty,
Along the cold McKenzie in the spring of the year.
How I love to listen for the sound like the ocean
The old familiar motion through the cottonwoods again.

Born in the valley where the cottonwoods grow,
Lining the river, making it snow.

[Instrumental break - two lines of the verse]

Blowing from the branches of the trees by the river,
The sweet smell of breezes through the cottonwoods again.
The sweet smell of breezes through the cottonwoods again.

© 1983 McTate Music
All Rights reserved