the summer elvis died
and we slept outside
the air raid siren blew;
at twelve a.m. and noon

this whidbey house upon the hill
has long since been sold
it's value in the past ten years
has increased twenty fold
i hope the man
won't change too much
oh mister owner please
i'd love to drive by one more time
and relive memories

aunt beaulah’s place is down the hill
a skip right down the road
not too far form myrtle ave
you’ll find her small abode
she’s cooking up her very famous
home-made annual feast
she invites the summer tenants
and her co-retirees

the summer elvis died
and we slept outside
the air raid siren blew;
at twelve a.m. and noon
though we never ever fall asleep
we wouldn’t dare complain
we just traded jokes and anecdotes
and laughed right through the night
to the rhythm of the north pacific rain
on our roof
to the rhythm of the north pacific rain

underneath the umbrella tree
timmy’s boat is calling me
orange coats are left ashore
with our shoes and an extra oar
caught a chill from the harbor breeze
we got in trouble when we rowed in
so i put the blame on tim