| From the ship, we could see it in the distance
|
| As the fog was finally lifting
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| We had come to the shores of Summerday
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| Gently landing, we jumped out on the sand
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| And found our way
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| Where the dirt was soft and black
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| We started digging a garden
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| And soon we found the woods that we’d
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| Call the forest of Arden for to play
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| When we came to Summerday
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| On the shores of Summerday
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| We will live in Summerday
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| And we climbed a stony mountain
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| We were boisterous then quiet
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| As we thought about what instruments to make
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| Soon we started to build the uilleann pipes
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| And fine guitars
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| Then we scouted out the hollows
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| For solitude and silence
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| And we found the places we could meet
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| By the blue and glassy river
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| Under stars where the paper lanterns sway
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| In the streets of Summerday
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| Trust the night and trust the day
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| Sun and moon of Summerday
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| We are pilgrims in the land between religions
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| We are following our children
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| And we paint in different colors every day
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| And if we’re true to our hearts they will
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| Grow up and want to stay
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| We will work beside them as they
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| Build modest houses and
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| On a misty April morning
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| We’ll rest the shovels on the fence
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| And die and become a summer day
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| Oh, the fields of Summerday
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| And the flowers of Summerday
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| They will live in Summerday
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| To the shores of Summerday
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| So we sail to Summerday
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| We will live in Summerday |