Little River Words by Ruth Moore Tune by Gordon Bok Little River, lighted whistle, cry no more Sleepy sound from the breakers calling me back to shore Whistle it soft to the silver river Whistle loud to the drumming sea Whistle it low to the moon and the morning Not to me, never to me For I'm swinging high in another country, swinging low Playing it easy, the dolphins follow me where I go Whistle it loud to the floodtide making Whistle it soft to the wheeling sun Whistle it wild to my girl's heart breaking She'll remember, she was the one Spring comes warm to Little River, storm comes black I was headed home when the Indian Giver took me back Whistle it high to the grey-beard breakers Where the secret over the great shoals ran Whistle the world that was in my pocket When I had pockets, when I was a man Copyright Folk-Legacy Records, Inc. 1977 recorded by Gordon Bok SOF
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