A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three

Ah, sitting under a shady tree, trying to whistle with the birds
And nothin' happenin' in my mind to prevent my writing words
The sun is out, the grass is green, for once things are just as they seem
Sitting under a shady tree, trying to whistle with the birds

A-my spot is a secret spot
You are nowhere near
No one else is ever allowed
To be even near

A-rompin' through the grassy field tryin' to listen to the weeds
A-everything could be groovy if you'd look inside your beads
My shirt is fresh and evenin' clean, my bag is ripped along the seam
A-rompin' through the grassy field tryin' to listen to the weeds