Written by Robbie Smith
It’s been a dream of mine since I was no more than a child
– just a child
To set out on my own and conquer that river running wild
To forget about the life I’ve led and find a place where no one ever goes
Find out where that cold old river flows
Now, Pa was a mountain man, that’s what the parson said
– That’s what he said
But I never knew his name and I never had his picture by my bed
But he lived up in those rocky hills where the coyote cries,
and the wind just blows and blows
Out there where that cold old river flows
Old river I am young – changing river my journey’s begun
I only hope that I might be your friend until my journey’s end
I’ll take this birch canoe leave my orphan days behind
– far behind
This time I won’t be turning back for I have no ties that bind
I’ll just camp out ‘neath an open sky then southward to canyons I will go
’Til I find out where that cold old river flows
Old river I am young – changing river my journey’s begun
I only hope that you might be my friend…
Once I’ve reached my journey’s end
Tonight I’ll make my bed in the milkweed by the shore
– the misty shore
And then I’ll close my eyes and listen to the distant rapids roar
And I’ll put away my hunting knife and think about the lonely life he chose
Out here where that cold old river flows
Where that cold old river flows, where that cold old river flows
Where that cold old river flows