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   A crab on a slab    At the bottom of the sea   Than a man who never learns   How to be free   Not till he’s cold and dead      Well, I’ll sing you a story    Of a sorrowful lad   He had everything he wanted   Didn’t want what he had   He had wealth and health   And name and fame   And all of that noise   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 is mighty far to run   Out into the country   Where he’d played as a boy   He knew he had the find him some   Simple joys…   He wanted someplace warm   And green   We all could use a change    Of scene      Sweet summer evenings   So full of sound   Gaining a lover   Gaining a pound   Simple joys have a simple voice   That says, “Take a look around,”   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   Than a man who never learns    How to be free   Not til he’s underground      Sweet summer evenings   Sapphire skies   Feasting your belly   You’re feasting your eyes   Simple joys have a simple voice   That says, “Time is a 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   A fig on a twig   In Galilee   Than a men 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