- published: 30 May 2015
- views: 9715
Nick Reynolds (July 27, 1933 San Diego, California - October 1, 2008 San Diego, California) was an American folk musician and recording artist. Reynolds was one of the founding members of The Kingston Trio, whose largely folk-based material captured international attention during the late fifties and early sixties.
Growing up in Coronado, California, his passions as a boy growing up were tennis, skin-diving and singing with his family. His father, a Navy captain, was an avid guitar player who brought back songs from his travels around the world. He taught Nick the guitar and ukulele, and the family spent many nights singing and harmonizing for pure enjoyment. Nick enrolled in Menlo College in 1954 as a business major, and met Bob Shane in an accounting class. They soon started hanging out, drinking, and chasing women together, and this, in turn, led to playing music, initially as a way of being popular at parties — Shane's guitar and Reynolds' bongos became a fixture at local frat gatherings, and after a few weeks of this, Shane introduced Reynolds to Dave Guard.
Well, I hope to tell you, Johnny, that I lay that rifle down
But leave the noose and the calaboose and headed for another town
Well, I've got your name in San Jose and your picture's there to see
And they're shootin' men in Texas just because they look like me
And we will run the ridges of our green land Tennessee
And we will hide for forty years if that's what's meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be, meant to be
Maybe we could try Mexico and cross the desert sand
But they're guardin' 'cross the border 'case we swim the Rio Grande
And we will run the ridges of our green land Tennessee
And we will hide for forty years if that's what's meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be, meant to be
Well, they'll rope and tie you, Johnny, and they'll throw you to the ground
And they'll let you hang a week or two 'fore they cut your body down
And we will run the ridges of our green land Tennessee
And we will hide for forty years if that's what's meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be
And we will run the ridges of our green land Tennessee
And we will hide for forty years if that's what's meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be
Meant to be, meant to be, meant to be