Tono: B
Introducción: Bm C D G
C G
Grey-haired and flint-eyed, his sunburned face lined
C G D
Grandpa was a man of few words
G C G
He had a way of not wanting to say
F Em D
Any more than he thought would be heard
G C G
The long years of living, day to day giving
C G Am
Had carved out a map on his face
G C G C
With little to lose, he'd learned how to choose
G D G
And his choices were easy to trace
D C
He had the eyes of a painter
G
Heart of a maker of songs
Bm C D
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
G
Precious and so quickly gone
G C G
From a long line of teachers, white Baptist preachers
C G D
He was born with an Indian will
G C G
His quiet dark eyes reading the light
F Em D
As he rode in the low Osage hills
G C G
His school was the prairie, the Sage, the wild berry
C G Am
The Quail, the wide open sky
G C G C
The Cottonwood thicket by the slow rolling river
G D G
The Redbud and the hot cattle drive
D C
He had the eyes of a painter
G
Heart of a maker of songs
Bm C D
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
G Bm C D G
Precious and so quickly gone
G C G
There were days filled with thinking, nights with the drinking
C G D
For a lost love that raged like a storm
G C- G F
Ah, but how his eyes smiled, when he talked to a child
Em D
The rough hands so gentle and warm
G C G
His strong arms were brown where the long sleeves rolled down
C G Am
On his faded blue cotton shirt
G C G C
When times got hard, he'd go out in the yard
G D G
And he'd cuss away some of his hurt
D C
He had the eyes of a painter
G
Heart of a maker of songs
Bm C D
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
G
Precious and so quickly gone
G C G
Now the garden's grown dusty, the hand-axe lies rusty
C G D
The door's banging hard in the wind
G C G F
Grandpa's store is closed down, like most of the town
Em D
And it won't be open again
G C G
And a big white car sits out in the yard
C G Am
Of the house he built solid and true
G C G C
Ah, but I see his eyes burning tonight
G D G
Like the stars in the sky he once knew
D C
He had the eyes of a painter
G
Heart of a maker of songs
Bm C D
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
G
Precious and so quickly gone
Bm C D
His words fell like rain on the dry desert plain
G
Precious and so quickly gone