Hermit was sleeping
And dreaming
Just like the maple syrup
That was seeping
So sweetly
From the tree
In which he was
Soothed by the buzz
Of a hundred honey bees
Returning to the hollow
From a red clover field
Something’s sure sweet about that tree
Something’s sure sweet about that
Fuzzy warm reality
It’s good enough for squirrels
So it’s good enough for me
I’m not aware of any substitute that I could ever want
There’s no comparison, I’ve found the real deal
Made in Vermont…
