PRELUDE
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(Into Weather Report Suite Part I) 

             
Winter rain, n

            
ow tell me why


,
              
Summers fade, 

         
and roses die.

 The answer
          
came, the wind

         
 and rain.

|  -  - |  -  - |

             
Golden hills, 

              
now veiled in 

   
grey,
              
Summer leaves 

             
have blown awa

y. Now what
          
remains? The w

            
ind and rain.

|  -  - |  -  - |

            
And like a des

        
ert spring,
             
My lover comes

         
 and spreads h

er wings.
             
Knowing, like 

   
a song that's 

born to soar t

he sky,
             
Flowing, flowi

     
ng 'til the wa

ters all are d

ry,
             
Growing, the l


oving in her e

yes.

SOLO SECTION
|4/4  - - - | - - - |  - - - |  - - - |

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|  - - - |  -  - |  -  - |

             
Circle songs a

              
nd sands of ti

 
me,
           
Seasons will e

        
nd in tumbled 

rhyme,
             
And little cha

#           
nge, the wind 

   
and rain.

|  -  - |  -  - |

            
And like a des

         
ert spring,
             
My lover comes

      
 and spreads h

er wings.
             
Knowing, like 

    
a song that's 

born to soar t

he sky,
             
Flowing, flowi

     
ng 'til the ri

vers all are d

ry,
             
Growing, the l

  
oving in her e

yes.

             
Winter gray an

              
d falling rain


,
             
We'll see summ

         
er come again,
             
Darkness falls

              
 and seasons c


hange,
(gonna happen every time)
             
Same old frien

              
ds the wind an

   
d rain,
(we'll see summer by and by)
             
Winter gray an

           
d falling rain

,
(summers roses die)
             
We'll see summ

         
er come again,

Like a song th

at's born to s

oar the sky.

| - - - |  - - - |  - - - |  - - - |  - - - ||

__________________________________________________________________
LET IT GROW 

Intro:  

            
Morning comes,

              
 she follows t

              
he path to the

        
 river shore
            
Lightly sung, 

              
her song is th

              
e latch on the

           
 morning’s doo


r
           
See the sun, s

parkle in the 

reeds
           
Silver beads, 

              
pass to the se

     
a

             
She comes from

              
 a town where 

              
they call her 

              
the wood cutte

    
r’s daughter
              
She’s brown as

              
 the bank wher

              
e she kneels d

              
own to gather 

    
her water
              
She bears it a

              
way with a lov

              
e that the riv

       
er has taught 

her
            
Let it flow, l

             
et it flow, wi

              
de and clear

       
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Round and roun

              
d, the cut of 

              
the plow in th

  
e furrowed fie

lds
            
Season’s round

              
, the bushels 

              
of corn and th

  
e barley meal
            
Broken ground,

 
 open and beck

oning
            
To the spring,

             
 black dirt li

           
ve again

             
The plowman is

              
 broad as the 

              
back of the la

         
nd he is sowin

g
            
As he dances t

              
he circular tr

              
ack of the plo

       
w ever knowing
             
That the work 

              
of his days me

              
asures more th

              
an the plantin

             
g and growing
            
Let it grow, l

             
et it grow, gr

              
eatly yield

         
What shall we 

             
say, shall we 

            
call it by a n


ame
             
As well to cou

             
nt the angels 


dancing on a p

in
        
Water bright a

             
s the sky from

          
 which it came
             
And the name i

              
s on the earth

              
 that takes it

 
 in
             
We will not sp

             
eak, but stand

            
 inside the ra

/
in
            
And listen to 

           
the thunder sh

            
out, "I am, I 

         
am, I am, I am

#
"

Jam on verse pattern

            
So it goes, we

              
 make what we 

              
made since the

 
 world began
            
Nothing more, 

              
the love of th

         
e women, work 

of man
            
Seasons round,

 
 creatures gre

at and small
            
Up and down, a

 
s we rise and 

fall

  -       -   

Jam on Am7

Jam on Em7