Simple Joys

Well, I'll sing you the story of a sorrowful lad He had everything he wanted Didn't want what he had He had wealth and pelf and name and fame And all of that noise But 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 was mighty far to run Out into the country where he played as a boy He knew he had to find him some simple joy He wanted someplace warm and green We all could use a change of scene 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 Or a crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea Than a man who never learns how to be free? Not 'til he's cold and dead And wouldn't you Rather be a left-handed flea A crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea Or a newt on the root of a banyan tree Than a man who never learns how to be free? Not 'til the day he dies Sweet summer evenings Sapphire skies Feasting your belly Feasting your eyes Simple joys have a simple voice That says, "time is living's 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 Or a fig on a twig in Galilee Than a man 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