Out in California

OUT there in California where the orange turns to gold,

And nature has forgot the art of growing cold,

There is not a day throughout the year the flowers do not grow;

There is not an hour the waters do not unfettered flow,

There is not a single moment that the songsters cease to sing,

And life’s a sort of constant race twixt Summer and the Spring.

Why, just to know the joy of it one might his best years give,

Out there in California where it’s comfort just to live.