"Imti Mitchell Songbook
nmplete volume number I (1966-1970)
Design: Anthony Hudson Illustrations: «foni Mitchell Production: Ida Random
Joid Mitchell Songbooh
Complete volume number 1 (1966-197O)
®1974 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP All Rights Reserved
Exclusive Selling Agent for the United States and Canada WARNER BROS. PUBLICATIONS INC. 75 Rockefeller Plaza • New York, N.Y. 1OO19
Sony to a Seagull
Cactus Tree The Daumtreader I Had a King Mareie Michael front Mountains Nathan La Franeer Wight in the Citg The Pirate of Penance Sisotowbell Lane Song to a Seagull 38 4O 46 49 32 3O 43 52 36
Clouds
Both Sides Now Chelsea Morning The Fiddle and the Drum The Gallery I Don't Know Where I Stand I Think I Understand Roses Blue Songs to Aging Children Come That Song About the Midway Tin Angel 78 55 65 72 69 6O 66 62 75 58
tidies olthe Canyon
The Arrangement 92 BigYellowTuxi / 115 BlueBog vj 9O The Circle Game 118 He Comes for Conversation SO He Played Real Good for free 112 Ladies of the Canyon 97 Morning Morgantoum 1O9 The Priest Song 1O3 ttaing Night House 86 Willie 1OO Woodstock 1O6
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Cactuswho's been out sailing There's a man
In a decade full of dreams And he takes her to a schooner And he treats her like a queen Bearing beads from California With their amber stones and green He has called her from the harbor He has kissed her with his freedom He has heard her off to starboard In the breaking and the breathing Of the water weeds While she's so busy being free There's a man who climbed a mountain And he's calling out her name And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles He calls again He can think hej^h^feJbeside ffe can mis^her just the same He has missed her in the forest While he showed her all the flowers And the branches sang the chorus As he climbed the scaley towers Of a forest tree While she was somewhere being free There's a man who's sent a letter And he's waiting for reply He has asked her of her travels Since the day they said goodbye He writes " Wish you were beside me We can make it if we try" He has seen her at the office With her name on all his papers Thru the sharing of the profits He will find it hard to shake her From his memory And she's so busy being free There's a lady in the city And she thinks she loves them all There's the one who's thinking of her There's the one who sometimes calls There's the one who writes her letters With his facts and figures scrawl She has brought them to her senses They have laughed inside her laughter Now she rallies her defences For she fears that one will ask her For eternity And she's so busy being free There's a man who sends her medals He is bleeding from the war There's a jouster and a jester and a man who owns a store There's a drummer and a dreamer And you know there may be more She will love them when she sees them They will lose her if they follow And she only means to please them And her heart is full and hollow Like a cactus tree While she's so busy being free. by Joni Mitchell
©1968 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP.
Ihad a king ^ King HatNt I
In a tenement castl Lately he's taken To painting the pastel avails brown He's taken the curtains He's swept with The broom of contempt And the rooms Have an empty ring; He's cleaned with the tears Of an actor who fears For the laughter's sting. I can't go back there anymore. You know my keys won't Fit the door; JTimrtiinili iwy Don't fit the man. They never can, They never can. I had a king Dressed in drip-dry paisley. Lately he's taken to saying I'm crazy and blind. He lives in another time. Ladies in gingham Still blush when sings them Of wars But I, in my leather and lace, I can never Become that kind. I can't go back there anymore. You know my keys won't Fit the door; You know my thoughts Don't fit the man. They never can, They never can. I had a king In a salt-rusted carriage Who carried me off To his country for marriage Too soon. Beware of the pow'r of moons. There's no one to blame, No, there's no one to name As a traitor here. The queen's in the groove And the king's on the road Till the end of the year. I can't go back there anymore. You know my keys won't Fit the door; You know my thoughts Don't fit the man. They never can, They never can. They never can, They never can. by Joni Mitchell
C1968 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP.
The and Peridots
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lions, Gilded galleons spillea&cros§ the ocean floor, Treasure somewhere in the sebtuid he will find where. answer for. The roll of the harbor wake, The songs that the rigging makes; The taste of the spray he takes and he learns to give. He aches and he learns to live; He stakes all his silver on a promise to be free. Mermaids live in colonies; All his seadreams come to me. City satins left at home; I will not need them. I believe him when he tells of loving me. Something truthful in the sea your lies will find you. "Leave behind your streets" he said, And come to me. Come down from the neon lights; Come down from the tourist sights; Run down till the rain delights you; you do not hide. Sunlight will renew your pride" Skin white by skin golden, Like a promise to be free; Dolphins playing in the sea; All his seadreams come to me. Seabird, I have seen you fly above the pilings. I am smiling at your circles in the air. I will come and sit by you while he lies sleeping. Fold your fleet wings; I have brought some dreams to share: A dream that you love someone; A dream that the wars are done; A dream that you tell no one but the gray sea. They'll say that you're crazy And dream of a baby. Like a promise to be free; Children laughing out to sea; All his seadreams come to me. by Joni Mitchell
O/96S SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP.
Marcie in a coat of flowers Steps inside a candy store. Reds are sweet and greens are sour; Still no letter at her door. So she'll tvash her flower curtains, Hang them in the wind to dry, Dust her tables with his shirt And wave another day goodbye. Marcie's faucet needs a plumber, Marcie''s sorrow needs a man. Red is autumn, green is summer. Greens are turning and the sand, All along the ocean beaches Stares up empty at the sky. Marcie buys a bag of peaches. Stops a postman passing by. And summer goes, falls to the sidewalk Like string and brown paper; Winter blows up from the river. There's no one to take her to the sea. Marcie dresses warm; it's snowing, Takes a yellow cab uptown. Red is stop and green's for going. Sees a show and rides back down, Down along the Hudson River, Past the shipyards in the cold. Still no letter's been delivered, Still the winter days unfold. Like magazines fading In dusty grey attics and cellars, Make a dream, dream back to summer And hear how he tells her " Wait for me" Marcie leaves and doesn't tell us Where or why she moved away. "Red is angry, green is jealous" That was all she had to say. Someone thought they saw her Sunday, Window shopping in the rain. Someone heard she bought a one-way ticket And went west again. by Joni Mitchell
CI968 S1QUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. Alt Rights Reserved
Michael from Mountains
Michael wakes you up with sweets, He takes you up streets And the rain comes down; Sidewalk markets locked up tight And umbrellas bright On a gray background. There's oil on the puddles in taffeta patterns That run down the drain In colored arrangements that Michael will change With a stick that he found. Michael from mountains, Go where you will go to. Know that I will know you, Someday I will know you very well. Someday I will know you very well. Someday I will know you very well. Michael brings you to a park, He sings and it's dark When the clouds come by; Yellow slickers up on swings Like puppets on strings, Hanging in the sky. They'll splash home to suppers in wallpapered kitchens; Their mothers will scold, But Michael will hold you to keep away cold Till the sidewalks are dry. Michael from mountains, Go where you will go to. Know that I will know you, Someday I will know you very well. Someday I will know you very well. Someday I will know you very well.
Michael leads you up the stairs, He needs you to care And you know you do; Cats come crying to the key And dry you will be In a tow I or two. There's rain in the window, there's sun in the painting That smiles on the wall. You want to know all, but his mountains have called, So you never do. Michael from mountains, Go where you will go to. Know that I will know you, Someday I will know you very well. Someday I will know you very well. Someday I will know you very well. by Joni Mitchell
<D/967 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
Nathan La Franeer I hired a coach to take me from
confusion to the plane And though we shared a common space, I know we'll never meet again. The driver with his eyebrows furrowed in the rear view mirror, I read his name and it was plainly written, Nathan La Franeer. 1 asked him would he hurry, but we crawled the canyons slowly, Thru the buyers and the sellers, thru the burglar bells And the wishing'wells. With gangs and girly shows The ghostly garden grows. He asked me for a dollar more, he cursed me to my face; He hated everyone who paid to the ride and share his common space. I picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door. Another man reached out his hand, another hand reached out for more. The cars and buses bustled thru the bedlam of the day. I looked thru window glass at streets and Nathan grumbled at the grey. I saw an aging cripple selling Superman balloons; The city grated thru chrome-plate, the clock struck slowly half past noon. Thru the tunnel, tiled and turning into daylight once again; I am escaping Once again goodbye to symphonies. And dirty trees. With parks and plastic clothes The ghostly garden grows. He asked me for a dollar more, he cursed me to my face; He hated everyone who paid to the ride and share his common space. I picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door. Another man reached out his hand, another hand reached out for more. And I filled it full of silver and I left the fingers counting And the sky goes on forever without meter maids And peace parades. You feed it all your woes, The ghostly garden grows. He asked me for a dollar more, he cursed me to my face; He hated everyone who paid to the ride and share his common space. I picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door. Another man reached out his hand, another hand reached out for more. by Joni Mitchell
OJ968 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
Nathan La Franeer I hired a coach to take me from
confusion to the plane And though we shared a common space, I know we'll never meet again. The driver with his eyebrows furrowed in the rear view mirror, I read his name and it was plainly written, Nathan La Franeer. I asked him would he hurry, but we crawled the canyons slowly, Thru the buyers and the sellers, thru the burglar bells And the wishing'wells. With gangs and girly shows The ghostly garden grows. He asked me for a dollar more, he cursed me to my face; He hated everyone who paid to the ride and share his common space. I picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door. Another man reached out his hand, another hand reached out for more. The cars and buses bustled thru the bedlam of the day. I looked thru window glass at streets and Nathan grumbled at the grey. I saw an aging cripple selling Superman balloons; The city grated thru chrome-plate, the clock struck slowly half past noon. Thru the tunnel, tiled and turning into daylight once again; I am escaping Once again goodbye to symphonies. And dirty trees. With parks and plastic clothes The ghostly garden grows. He asked me for a dollar more, he cursed me to my face; He hated everyone who paid to the ride and share his common space. I picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door. Another man reached out his hand, another hand reached out for more. And I filled it full of silver and I left the fingers counting And the sky goes on forever without meter maids And peace parades. You feed it all your woes, The ghostly garden grows. He asked me for a dollar more, he cursed me to my face; He hated everyone who paid to the ride and share his common space. I picked my bags up from the curb and stumbled to the door. Another man reached out his hand, another hand reached out for more. by Joni Mitchell
€11968 S1QUOMB PUBLISHING All Rights Reserved CORP.
\itjh1 in the City
Light up, light up, Light up your lazy blue eyes. Moon's up, night's up, Taking the town by surprise. Night time, night time; Day left an hour ago. City light time, Must you get ready so slow? There are places to come from And places to go. Night in the city Looks pretty to me, Night in the city looks fine. Music comes spilling out Into the street, Colors go flashing in time. Take off, take off, Take off your stay-at-home shoes. Break off, shake off, Chase off those stay-at-home blues. Stairway, stairway Down to the crowds in the street. They go their way, Looking for faces to greet, While we go on laughing With no one to meet. Night in the city Looks pretty to me, Night in the city looks fine. Music comes spilling out Into the street, Colors go flashing in time. by Joni Mitchell
101966 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Resented
The Pirate orrenance The pirate anchored on a Wednesday
And why he carn^^^yort I wonder. To see a Iadv.si/jmv friends say. She dancef^ffrthasailors in a smoky ret far un/emfound, Dot™ in a cellamu^fnarbor town. fbve was treasure I reap the fullest bounty. ily comes to port for pleasure, \ whence winds of morning blew the curtc/ns in, she woke and found he'd
g07
I saw\his^ils unfurling Thursday dawn The pirate, he will sinjf^pu with a kiss, he'll steal your heart a, He'll leave you drowning in the flotsam of a broken promise in the bay. He came again to see her; yes, I think they told me it was Saturday. I was at sea then; I didn't see them. I don't believe what you are saying. It isn't true; I hardly knew him. Is this some game that you are playing? Go ask the dancer; She's the one who saw him last, the one who drew him here. He hasn't come to me since spring last year. There was a time when he would bring me silks and sandalwood and Persian lace And he would hold me close and tell me sailing stories by the fireplace. I was at sea, I tell you; I was nowhere near the mentioned murder place. Go ask the dancer; she knows the answer, She knows the answer, she knows the answer. by Joni Mitchell
C/968 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
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Si.soion'lM>ll Lane Sisotowbell Lane.
Noah is fixing the pump in the rain. He brings us no shame. We always knew that he always knew. Up over the hill Jovial neighbors come down when they will. With stories to tell. Sometimes they do, yes, sometimes we do. We have a rocking chair. Each of us rocks his share, Eating muffin buns and berries By the steamy kitchen window. Sometimes we do; our tongues turn blue. Sisotowbell Lane. Anywhere else now would seem very strange. The season's are changing ev'ry day in ev'ry way. Sometimes it is spring; Sometimes it is not anything. A poet can sing Sometimes we try, yes, we always try. We have a rocking chair. Somedays we rock and stare At the woodlands and the grasslands And the badlands 'cross the river. Sometimes we do; we like the view. Sisotowbell Lane. Go to the city, you'll come back again To wade thru the grain. You always do, yes, we always do. Come back to the stars, Sweet well water and pickleing jars. We'll lend you the car. We always do, yes, sometimes we do. We have a rocking chair. Someone is always there, Rocking rhythms while they're waiting With the candle in the window. Sometimes we do, we wait for you. by Joni Mitchell
Q19S8 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
Song to a Seagull
Fly, silly seabirds; no dreams can possess you; No voices can blame you for sun on your wings. My gentle relations have names they must call me For loving the freedom of all flying things. My dreams with seagulls fly out of reach, out of cry. I came to the city and lived like old Crusoe on an island of noise in a cobblestone sea And the beaches were concrete and the stars paid the light bill And the blossoms hung false on their store window trees. My dreams with the seagulls fly out of reach, out of cry. Out of the city and down to the seaside To sun on my shoulders and wind in my hair, But sand castles crumble and hunger is human And humans are hungry for worlds they can't share. My dreams with the seagulls fly out of reach, out of cry. I call to a seagull who dives to the waters and catches his silver fine dinner alone, Crying, "Where are the footprints that danced on the beaches And hand that cast wishes that sunk like a stone?" My dreams with the seagulls fly out of reach, out of cry. by Joni Mitchell
O/966 SIQUO1UB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
Both Sideshair, \<nr Bows and flows of angel
And ice-cream castles in the air, And feather canyons ev'rywhere, I've looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, They rain and snow on ev'ryone. So many things I would have done, But clouds got in my way I've looked at clouds from both sides now, From up and down and still somehow It's cloud illusions I recall; I really don't know clouds At all. Moons and Junes and ferris wheels, The dizzy dancing way you feel As ev'ry fairy tale comes real, I've looked at love that way. But now it's just another show, You leave 'em laughing when you go. And if you care, don't let them know, Don't give yourself away. I've looked at love from both sides now, From give and take and still somehow It's love's illusions I recall; I really don't know love A tall. Tears and fears and feeling proud, To say "I love you" right out loud, Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way. But now old friends are acting strange, They shake their heads, they say I've changed. But something's lost but something's gained, In living ev'ry day. I've looked at life from both sides now, From win and lose and still somehow It's life's illusions I recall; I really don't know life At all. by Joni Mitchell
91967 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
ChelseaChelsea morning Morning Woke up, it was a
And the first thing that I heard Was the song outside my window And the traffic wrote the words. It came ringing up like Christmas bells And rapping up like pipes and drums. Oh, won't you stay? We'll put on the day And we'll wear it till the night comes. Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning. And the first thing that I saw Was the sun thru yellow curtains And a rainbow on my wall, Red, green and gold to welcome you, Crimson crystal beads to beckon. Oh, won't you stay? We'll put on the day. There's a sun show ev'ry second. Now the curtain opens On a portrait of today And the streets are paved with passers by And pigeons fly And paper's lie, Waiting to blow away. Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning And the first thing that I knew There was milk and toast and honey And a bowl of oranges, too. And the light poured in like butterscotch And stuck to all my senses. Oh, won't you stay? We'll put on the day. And we'll talk in present tenses. When the curtain closes And the rainbow runs away, I will bring you incense owls at night By candle light, By jewel light If only you will stay. Pretty baby won't you, Woke up, it is a Chelsea morning. by Joni Mitchell
O1967 SIQUOMB PUBLISHING CORP. All Rights Reserved
The Fiddle and the Drum And so once again,
My dear, Johnny, my dear friend, And so, once again, You are fighting us all. And when I ask you why, You raise your sticks and cry, And I fall. Oh, my friend, how did you come To trade the fiddle JOT the drum? You say I have turned. Like the enemies you've earned. But, I can remember All the good things you are. And so I ask you why? Can I help you find the peace and the star? Oh, my friend. What time is this To trade the handshake for the fist? And so once again, 0 Am..."
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