A sad, slow song about J. F. K.’s death, 1963.
Words by Herbert Kretzmer.
Music by David Lee.
Sheet music:
Accompaniment by James Pitt-Payne:
Lyrics
A young man rode with his head held high
Under the Texas sun
And no one guessed that a man so blessed
Would perish by the gun
Lord, would perish by the gun
A shot rang out like a sudden shout
And heaven held its breath
For the dreams of a multitude of men
Rode with him to his death
Lord, rode with him to his death
Yes, the heart of the world weighs heavy
With the helplessness of tears
For the man cut down in a Texas town
In the summer of his years
The summer of his years
And we who stay must not ever lose
The vict’ries that he won
For wherever men look to freedom, then
His soul goes riding on
Lord, his soul goes riding on