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
