Tom Russell - When the wolves no longer sing

Oh, the raven flies o’er these ^Amvalleys, but ^Che don’t make a ^Amsound O’er the ^Cdeserts and the ^Amcities, he’s re^Cfusing to look ^Amdown And the ^Dmold songs are for^Bbgotten, gone with the ^Dmraven on the ^Gwing And ^Clove no longer ^Ammatters, and the ^Fwolves no longer ^Csing

Now the old man sold his ^Amhorses, his ^Cchildren sold the^Am ranch And there’s ^Croads all through that ^Amvalley, where his ^Cponies used to ^Amdance The dry ^Dmwind sings a ^Bblonesome tune, a ^Dmlonging for the ^GSpring And ^Clove no longer ^Ammatters, and the ^Fwolves no longer ^Csing

The ^BbOld Man sold his ^Fkingdom for a ^Csong What’s ^Bbhappened to the ^Fmusic? Where have the ^Cwild ones gone?

Now the ^Crain will come a^Amgain one day, the ^Cstars will keep on ^Amshining And the ^Cpoets will re^Amturn again, magic ^Cmelody and ^Amrhyming And if ^Dmgod is out there ^Bbsomewhere, looking ^Dmdown on every^Gthing Then ^Clove will always ^Ammatter, and the ^Fwolves will always ^Csing Then love will always ^Ammatter, and the ^Fwolves will always ^Csing