Ballad Of Johnny Appleseed Lyrics

In the great Ohio Valley
The old farmers tell a story
That their fathers told to them
All the way back to 1840
The story of a ghost
That sings above the rustling trees
And the farmers know the name for him
Johnny Appleseed

He was born John Chapman
And his brother was Nathaniel
From a farm in Massachusetts
They lit out for Pennsylvania
And he told his brother
All about his dream
Nat, someday they'll have a name for me
Johnny Appleseed

REFRAIN
Apple seeds, take and sow them
Apple seeds, take and grow them
They will bring you in good time
Summer pies and Autumn wine
Is that coffee that you're brewing, my good lady?

And he gathered up his treasure
At the cider mills round Pittsburgh
He packed them into buckskin sacks
So he could barely lift'em
Then he lashed together two birch bark canoes
And he bid Nathaniel fair-thee-well
And Nat bid him adieu

His voice sang o'er the waters
And it made the settlers shiver
As they fished along the banks
Of the great Ohio River
As he paddled up the branching streams
Through the marshes and the reeds
He would call his name out loud and clear
Johnny Appleseed

(REFRAIN)

Then he slung his pack across his back
And on his head a tin pot
And he wandered through the forests wild
Seeking out the right spots
“There's going to be an orchard here someday,” He'd say to all the squirrels
“Don't take these seeds away!”

One day he found a trading post
Where trappers bartered fur skins
And he traded fists of apple seeds
For a bony horse named Hawkins
And lying nearby in the weeds
Was a wolf pup in a bear trap
Crying, “Johnny Appleseed!”

Well, he opened up that trap
Made a splint and bound his leg up
Then they hit the road together
Johnny, Hawkins, and the wolf pup
The power of apples was their only creed
And his name and fame spread far and near
He was Johnny Appleseed

(REFRAIN)

So they journeyed through the forests
Down the valleys, along rivers
And they witnessed the arrival
Of the potters and the weavers
The blacksmiths and the carpenters all came
To this vast and fastly growing land
To conquer and to tame

In the spring of 1845
At an Indiana farmhouse
He slept up in a hay loft
Where a barn cat chased a field mouse
And his soul that night did softly slip away
While the birds sang all the whole night through
At least that's what they say

Now his spirit haunts the valley
Of the great Ohio River
As he brews his coffee o'er a fire
Some still can feel the shiver
As he sings above the rustling of the trees
You can hear the wind a-whispering
Johnny Appleseed

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