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