Out in the east of the San Joaquin Valley where the live oak trees stand tall
I met a boy by the old Calaveras he’s the one that I loved best of all
There’s a grass covered road—nobody goes there—winding along by the stream
For hours we would walk and talk of the future, merrily life was a dream.

He was the king of the Calaveras 
The river that carried our dreams
We were just sixteen but we were in love 
How distant and perfect it seems

His skin was tan from the San Joaquin sunshine his eyes were as blue as the sky
And the sound of his laughter was just like the river washing over the smooth stones nearby
But life calls us all to make our decisions and we must each go our own way
Still I look back on those years by the river and wish I could live them today.

He was the king of the Calaveras 
The river that carried our dreams
We were just sixteen but we were in love 
How distant and perfect it seems

You can have your New York and you can have Paris--they’ll take you and make you a slave
I’m going back to my old Calaveras—it’s the one love I’ll never betray.
And the cattle still roam o’er the hills and the valleys, the red-tailed hawk still calls above
And the whispering river still runs past the place where I first confessed my true love

He was the king of the Calaveras 
The river that carried our dreams
We were just sixteen but we were in love 
How distant and perfect it seems