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Musical: Pippin
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LEADING PLAYER Well I'll sing you the story of a sorrowful lad Had everything he wanted, didn't want what he had He had wealth and pelf and fame and name and all of That noise But 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 Things he'd just begun He ran from himself, now that's mighty far to run Out into the country where he played as a boy He knew he had to find him some simple joys He wanted someplace warm and green We all could use a change of scene Sweet summer evenings, hot wine and bread Sharing your supper, sharing your bed Simple joys have a simple voice: It says why not go ahead? 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 'til he's underground Sweet summer evenings, sapphire skies Feasting her belly Feasting her eyes Simple joys have a simple voice: It says time's a living 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 Or a fig on a twig in Galilee Than a man who never learns how to be free Not till the day Not till the day Not till the day Not till the day dies! Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na
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