John Denver Follow

I had an uncle, name of Matthew, he was his father's only boy.
Born just south of Colby, Kansas, he was his mother's pride and
joy.
Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on,
love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field,
blue was just the Kansas summer sky.

And all the stories that he told me back when I was just a
lad.
All the memories that he gave me, all the good times that he
had.
Growing up a Kansas farm boy, life was mostly having fun.
Riding on his daddy's shoulders behind the mule, beneath the
sun.
Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on,
love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field,
blue was just the Kansas summer sky.

Well, I guess there were some hard times, and I'm told some
years were lean.
They had a storm in '47, twister came and stripped 'em clean.
He lost the farm, he lost his family, he lost the wheat, he lost
his home.
But he found the family bible, his faith as solid as a stone.
Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on,
love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field,
blue was just the Kansas summer sky.

So he came to live at our house, and he came to work the
land.
He came to ease my daddy's burden, and he came to be my
friend.
So I wrote this down for Matthew, and it's for him this song is
sung.
Riding on his daddy's shoulders, behind the mule, beneath the
sun
Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on,
love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field,
blue was just the Kansas summer sky.
Yes, and joy was just a thing that he was raised on,
love was just a way to live and die.
Gold was just a windy Kansas wheat field,
blue was just the Kansas summer sky.