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There's magic on a summer evening The frogs are croaking in the pond We're turning towards salvation Across the Rubicon All the day, we work with our hands Digging in the Tuscan soil Planting peas and cabbage Nourished by the toil Here in Cuomoville We don't need chains of gold, whoa-ho Leave it for the Roman soldiers In their winged chariots It's a surrogate for heaven As the wicked world turns round We bring each other comfort Never let each other down If this is all we are given I'm sure that I'll be satisfied To know that you are with me On the day I die Feed 'em, 'feed em To the lions Feed 'em, feed 'em To the lions Taste your own Medicine Feed 'em, feed 'em To the lions Wave your hands As they are dying Taste your own Medicine Here in Cuomoville We don't need chains of gold, whoa-ho Leave it for the Roman soldiers All hail the Roman soldiers In their winged chariots
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