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John Denver – Leaving On A Jet Plane

John Denver | Colorado Music Hall of Fame

About the Song

“Leaving On A Jet Plane” is a song written by American singer-songwriter John Denver. It was released in 1969 on his debut album John Denver Sings. The song reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the United States and number two on the UK Singles Chart.

The song is a country-folk ballad about a young man who is leaving his home and loved ones to travel the world. The song’s lyrics are simple but effective, and the melody is catchy and memorable. Denver’s gentle vocals add to the song’s emotional impact.

“Leaving On A Jet Plane” has been covered by many artists over the years, including:

  • Peter, Paul and Mary
  • Dionne Warwick
  • The Carpenters
  • Willie Nelson
  • Dolly Parton

The song has also been used in a number of films and television shows, including:

  • The Graduate (1968)
  • Forrest Gump (1994)
  • Up in the Air (2009)

“Leaving On A Jet Plane” is a classic folk ballad that has stood the test of time. It is a song that is sure to continue to be enjoyed by listeners for many years to come.

Here are some additional details about the song:

  • The song was written in 1966, when Denver was just 21 years old.
  • The song was inspired by Denver’s own experiences of traveling the world.
  • The song was originally recorded as a demo, but it was later released as a single.
  • The song was a commercial success, reaching number one in the United States and Canada.
  • The song has been covered by many artists over the years, including Peter, Paul and Mary, Dionne Warwick, and The Carpenters.
  • The song has also been used in a number of films and television shows, including The Graduate, Forrest Gump, and Up in the Air.

John Denver - Songs, Death & Music

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Lyrics: Leaving On A Jet Plane

All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go
I’m standing here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say good-bye
But the dawn is breaking, it’s early morn
The taxi’s waiting He’s blowing his horn
Already I’m so lonesome I could die
So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go

‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

There’s so many times I’ve let you down
So many times I’ve played around
I tell you now they don’t mean a thing
Every place I go I’ll think of you
Every song I sing I’ll sing for you
When I come back, I’ll bring your wedding ring
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go

‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time let me kiss you
Then close your eyes, I’ll be on my way
Dream about the days to come when I won’t have to leave alone
About the times I won’t have to say
Kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go

‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go
I’m leaving on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

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HIS FATHER TOLD HIM TO PUT DOWN THE GUITAR. NASHVILLE FORGOT HIM. TWICE. HE CAME BACK IN A WHEELCHAIR AND STILL WOULDN’T SHUT UP. Vern Gosdin grew up hauling rocks and chopping cotton in Woodland, Alabama. His father tried music once, failed, and forbade his son from ever touching a guitar. Vern left home and never looked back — never saw his father again. He moved to California. Then Chicago. Then Nashville. Two record labels went bankrupt under him. Nobody called. Nobody came looking. So he quit, moved to Georgia, and sold glass for a living. But he kept a guitar in his truck. In the late ’70s, he crawled back to Nashville — older, broker, and angrier than every pretty boy on country radio. He didn’t sound trendy. He sounded like a man who’d been through hell and could prove it. Then he wrote “Chiseled in Stone” and beat every superstar in town for CMA Song of the Year. Tammy Wynette called him “the only singer who can hold a candle to George Jones.” In 1998, a stroke stole his voice. He kept writing from a wheelchair. 101 songs. Still fighting. They called him “The Voice.” Nashville called him too late. Does knowing how many times Vern Gosdin had to start over make “Chiseled in Stone” hit even harder now?

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THEY LOOKED LIKE FOUR OUTLAWS WHO COULD OUTRUN TIME ITSELF. BUT WHEN YOU WATCH THE HIGHWAYMEN SING “BIG RIVER” TODAY, THE EMPTY MICROPHONES BREAK YOUR HEART. Onstage, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, and Willie Nelson looked untouchable. Four weathered men, four different wounds, four voices that made country music sound dangerous, honest, and free. When they traded verses on Cash’s “Big River,” it wasn’t just another performance. It was four old brothers chasing the same song down the same river, each one carrying a piece of the road in his voice. Cash brought the thunder. Waylon brought the grit. Kris brought the broken-poet soul. Willie floated above it all with that calm, aching grace only he could carry. Back then, the stage lights made it easy to believe they would always be there. That was the beautiful lie of watching legends stand side by side. But time does what no outlaw ever could: it catches everyone. Today, Cash is gone. Waylon is gone. Kris has crossed the river too. Willie is the only one left, still playing, still standing, still carrying a brotherhood that can never fully gather again. That is why “Big River” feels different now. It is no longer just a song about chasing something you cannot hold. It feels like time itself moving past four men we were not ready to lose. The song remains. But three microphones are empty. Does “Big River” feel heavier now that Willie is the only one left to sing it?

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