Tipo de gaita: Diatônica
Tom: qualquer

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He was born in the summer 
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of his twenty seventh year, 
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comin' home to a place he'd never been before. 
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He left yesterday behind him, 
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you might say he was born again. 
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You might say he found a key for ev'ry door. 
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When he first came to the mountains 
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his life was far away, 
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on the road and hangin' by a song. 
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But the string's already broken 
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and he doesn't really care. 
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It keeps changin' fa-st 
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and it don't la-st for long. 
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But the Colarado Rocky Mountain Hi-gh 
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I've seen it rainin' fire i-n the sky. 
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The shadow from the star-li-g-ht 
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is softer than a lullaby. 
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Rocky Mountain High, Rocky Mountain High.