Written by Bob Dylan. This is The Byrds version.
G Am
Clouds so swift, the rain won't lift
C G
The gates won't close, the railings froze
Am
Get your mind off wintertime
C G
You ain't going nowhere
G Am
Ooo-wee, ride me high
C G
Tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come
Am
Ooh, ooh, are we gonna fly
C G
Down in the easy chair
G Am
I don't care how many letters they sent
C G
The morning came and the morning went
Am
Pick up your money, pack up your tent,
C G
You ain't going nowhere
G Am
Ooo-wee, ride me high
C G
Tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come
Am
Ooh, ooh, are we gonna fly
C G
Down in the easy chair
G Am
Buy me a flute and a gun that shoots
C G
Tailgates and substitutes
Am
Strap yourself to the tree with roots
C G
You ain't going nowhere
G Am
Ooo-wee, ride me high
C G
Tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come
Am
Ooh, ooh, are we gonna fly
C G
Down in the easy chair
G Am
Gengis Khan he could not keep
C G
All his kings supplied with sleep
Am
We'll climb that hill no matter how steep
C G
When we get up to it
G Am
Ooo-wee, ride me high
C G
Tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come
Am
Ooh, ooh, are we gonna fly
C G
Down in the easy chair