There is a path that leads to a tavern,
Where you get all the pleasures of life.
Where ale flows freely into mugs and goblets
And friendly words greet as you go by.

Oh! it is down by the foot of the mountain,
Where the cold water runs so clear.
Where the cerubell dances softly
In a breeze of cool night air.

The way there goes over stone and rock,
And under shadows of silver clad trees.
Golden streaks from the shining inn
Filtering softly through thousands of leaves.

The inn’s song will kindly lead me,
While a fairy tells of the warming sun.
And time will pass fast as I wander,
Soon encountering a door will let me in.

A hand lifts to slowly push it open,
So I can enter with tired steps.
A chair and rest I find after the walk
And a ear that will listen to my tale.