| Lord Summerisle |
|---|
| Oh, how now? |
| Harvest seeds in summer drown |
| The first of May on the 'morrow's light |
| Yet Gods on high bring ancient night |
| Autumn’s frost and winter’s balm |
| Have come and gone with arid sun |
| Will they dance with us this night? |
| The answer lies with Summerisle |
| We’ll sing to those whom we hold dear |
| Of orchard tombs where death lies near |
| Of barren earth and orphaned sun |
| Of crop-yields promised; |
| still to come |
| Will they dance with us this night? |
| The answer lies with Summerisle |
