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Seminole Winds

Höfundur lags: John Anderson Flytjandi: John Anderson Sent inn af: Anonymous
[Em]Ever since the [G]days of old [D7]men would search for [Am]wealth untold
[Em]They dig for silver and [G]for gold and [D7]leave the empty [Am]holes
And [Em]way down south in the [G]Everglades
Where the [D7]black water rolls and the [Am]Saw grass waves
[Em]The eagles fly and the [G]Otters play in the [D7]land of the [Am]Seminole

So [Em]blow blow [G]Seminole wind [D7]blow like your never gonna [Am]blow again
[Em]I'm calling to you like a [G]long lost friend but [D7]I know who you [Am]are   
And [Em]blow blow from the [G]Okeechobee  [D7]all the way up to [Am]Micanopy
[Em]Blow cross the home of the [G]Seminole the [D7]alligators and the [Am]Garr   

[Em]Progress came and [G]took its toll and [D7]in the name of [Am]flood control
The[Em]y make their plans and they [G]drained the land
[D7]Now the glades are [Am]going dry
And the [Em]last time I walked [G]in the swamp I [D7]sat upon a [Am]cypress stump
[Em]I listened close and I [G]heard the ghost of [D7]Osceola [Am]cry   

So [Em]blow blow [G]Seminole wind [D7]blow like your never gonna [Am]blow again
[Em]I'm calling to you like a [G]long lost friend but [D7]I know who you [Am]are   
And [Em]blow blow from the [G]Okeechobee  [D7]all the way up to [Am]Micanopy
[Em]Blow cross the home of the [G]Seminole the [D7]alligators and the [Am]Garr   

Ever since the days of old men would search for wealth untold
They dig for silver and for gold and leave the empty holes
And way down south in the Everglades
Where the black water rolls and the Saw grass waves
The eagles fly and the Otters play in the land of the Seminole

So blow blow Seminole wind blow like your never gonna blow again
I'm calling to you like a long lost friend but I know who you are
And blow blow from the Okeechobee  all the way up to Micanopy
Blow cross the home of the Seminole the alligators and the Garr

Progress came and took its toll and in the name of flood control
They make their plans and they drained the land
Now the glades are going dry
And the last time I walked in the swamp I sat upon a cypress stump
I listened close and I heard the ghost of Osceola cry

So blow blow Seminole wind blow like your never gonna blow again
I'm calling to you like a long lost friend but I know who you are
And blow blow from the Okeechobee  all the way up to Micanopy
Blow cross the home of the Seminole the alligators and the Garr

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