You were my favourite summer
My empire orchard row
We heard the hum of the hurricane coming
And had an acre to go
You were the cloud in the cover
I was the rue in the rain
We had enough over which one of us
Was the weather or the vane
What a howl it makes when the last bough breaks
The sky will forsake the ground
Didn’t know how to save it
Couldn’t turn it around
All we could grow, it fell to the crows
Oh what a terrible sound
We were done by December
That’s when our hands and our hearts got cold
Sold our spades on the darkest day
Traded our stalks for gold
What a howl it makes when the last bough breaks
The sky ignites and the earth shakes
The echo rings where once we were kings
Those who tend will someday take
You were my favourite summer
My empire orchard row
We heard the hum of the hurricane coming
And had an acre to go