It’s the first week of May, fields full of lion’s manes
Pickin’ them buttons all day
They’ll be bubblin’ fine for 6 months of time
‘Til we get a taste of that dandelion wine

When the cold comes we’ll be drinking ‘round the fire
Dreaming of a summer with no end
Warming our souls through our labor
And when Spring comes ‘round we’ll do it all again

You pick what you can ‘til the blue blood stains your hand
‘Til it feels like you’re robbing the land
But the fruits of the soil come through love and from toil
And the learning of the common man

A time comes around before the first frost touches down
When you pick up the apples from the ground
You fill up the press and the deer get the rest
Then you sleep to that bubblin’ sound

When Spring comes ‘round we’ll do it all again