Let's all go to the country fair,
there's blossoms and ribbons and hope in the air.
The harvest's in, the endless bin,
and Grandpa can bring the old mare.
For not long ago to another sound,
men of great virtue stood their ground,
their world spinning round and round.
And lest we forget their treasured souls,
'midst blossoms and ribbons and stones in a row,
'round the merry-go-round we go.
Our time is sweet in a Country fair.