"WHEN SUMMER COMES"
 

The mountain's stream awakens now,
As late Spring's ice and snow,
No longer holds her where she is,
but slowly let her go.

And singing down the mountain's side,
She dances through the day,
Past sunny banks of green and gold,
Ah!, Summer's on the way.

The great black bear surveys the hills,
While hawks sail the endless skies,
The flowers blush across the fields,
To tempt the fickle butterflies.

Through the trees the Summer breeze,
Does whisper as she goes,
Blest be the Hand that made this land,
And every thing that grows.

The gentle Hand that made the rose,
So velvet soft and mild,
The mighty Hand that made these hills,
So beautiful, with skilful stile!

Oh, come sweet Summer,
We welcome you with open arms.
Warm the World with your magic swirls,
And mother nature, a new Wardrobe of Charms.

Whoo-Rah!

~ John-Paul