| Well, I was born up in the mountains
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| Raised up in a desert town
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| And I never saw the ocean
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| Till I was close to your age now
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| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
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| Hey hey hey, your rolling river
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| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
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| Hey hey hey, only a river gonna make things right
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| Only a river gonna make things right
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| Only a river gonna make things right
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| I’m going back to San Angelo
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| The ground is hard and the count is dry
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| But I’m gonna get my fill somehow
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| Rivers of corn, and wheat and rye
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| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
|
| Hey hey hey, your rolling river
|
| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
|
| Hey hey hey, only a river gonna make things right
|
| Only a river gonna make things right
|
| Only a river gonna make things right
|
| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
|
| Hey hey hey, your rolling river
|
| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
|
| Hey hey hey, only a river gonna make things right
|
| Only a river gonna make things right
|
| Only a river gonna make things right
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| Now, red, red, river bowing
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| Will she remember all the things we said?
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| And what’s the chance that she’ll remember
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| All those nights in the riverbed?
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| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
|
| Hey hey hey, your rolling river
|
| Oh Shanondoah, I long to see you
|
| Hey hey hey, only a river gonna make things right
|
| Only a river gonna make things right
|
| Only a river gonna make things right |