’tis a playing field for many kinds
out in the arena, to discern the companionship of the puissant sun
’tis a hot, new summer day , blithe and sound
maketh thou run, run, run…
syrupy voice of nightingale, fills candied fondness
brisk zephyr from mount, gives the kiss of life to excitement
’tis a hot, new summer day, with couthy happiness
pulpous din of childlike leaves, giveth splendiferous compliment
Always, be youthful, thou art not old
sayeth the mighty tree
’tis a hot, new summer day, nitid and bold
thine cravings should never perish that maketh thee free
Last, but not the least
hot, new summer day bids thou for the feast.
