Sweet summer evenings
Hot wine and bread
Sharing your supper
Sharing your bed
Simple joys have a simple voice
That says, “Why not go ahead?”
And wouldn’t you, rather be a left-handed flea
A crab on a slab, at the bottom of the sea
Than a man who never learns
How to be free
Not till he’s cold and dead
Well, I’ll sing you a story
Of a sorrowful lad
He had everything he wanted
Didn’t want what he had
He had wealth and health
And name and fame
And all of that noise
He didn’t have none of those
Simple joys
His life seemed purposeless
And flat
Aren’t you glad you don’t feel
Like that?
So he ran from all the deeds he’d done
He ran from things he’d just begun
He ran from himself
Which is mighty far to run
Out into the country
Where he’d played as a boy
He knew he had the find him some
Simple joys
He wanted someplace warm
And green
We all could use a change
Of scene
Sweet summer evenings
So full of sound
Gaining a lover
Gaining a pound
Simple joys have a simple voice
That says, “Take a look around”
And wouldn’t you, rather be a left-handed flea
A crab on a slab, at the bottom of the sea
A newt on the root, of a banyan tree
Than a man who never learns
How to be free
Not ’til he’s underground
Sweet summer evenings, sapphire skies
Feasting your belly
You’re feasting your eyes
Simple joys have a simple voice
That says, “Time is a livings prize”
And wouldn’t you, rather be a left-handed flea
A crab on a slab, at the bottom of the sea
A newt on the root, of a banyan tree
A fig on a twig in Galilee
Than a men who never learns
How to be free
Not ’til the day he
Not ’til the day he
Not ’til the day
Not ’til the day
He dies