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