The old place hasn't changed much,
The carousel still rings today,
I remember how it use to be,
On those old sweet Summer days.

The picnics in the meadow,
That we use to share,
The blue ribbon for your quilt,
At the country fair.

The ponies in the park,
On which we use to ride,
The music grinder and his monkey,
And how you use to cry.

The trips across the lake,
In that old canoe,
I'd bring my ukulele,
And I'd sing a song for you.

We may be getting older,
But the memories we hold dear,
Of all those old sweet Summer days,
We enjoyed and shared right here.