The Summer is past But your days keep growing longer There’s no wind in your sails But the storm’s blowing stronger Walking hard Standing tall Keeping your head up through it all Fighting fires Spinning plates Goodness, how’d it get it so late? Lay your head down and dream Lay your head down and dream Just let your mind float downstream Sprawled out in a moonbeam Lay your head down and dream Joe Hills is filmed before a live streaming audience

I want a girl who will mine for her diamonds I want a girl who can sort a chest I want a girl with shears that cut And swords that burn through zombie flesh I want a girl who knows world generation Who crafts, furrows, and times her attack She’s modding her community She’s flying through the air She’s smelting out impurities And feeding her cat I want a girl with a lectern and a full cauldron I want a girl who logs in early I want a girl who plays til late I want a girl with unobstructed creativity Who uses a tripwire, to ruin your day With shulker boxes organized and lustrous And a tone that will torch you like desert grass Who crafts, furrows, and times her attack She’s smelting out impurities And feeding her cat I want a girl with a lectern and a full, full cauldron I want a girl whose shield is emblazoned I want a girl with good enchantments On some server we will meet incidentally We’ll start to talk as we shoot skeletons She wants a spawn with biome convenience She wants a spawn that’s in good repair She’s changing her aim from wither to dragon She’s trading her archery for a trident that’s self-repairin’ I want a girl with a lectern and a full cauldron

Yeah, you’re gonna take my course just to save your soul We’re gonna try to get ethical You’re gonna take my course just to save my soul We’re gonna try to get ethical I’ve got the treatises by Kant Anything I want Janet brought the chalk Are you listening or not? Writing on the board Your morals are quite poor We deserve The Good Place You’ve just gotta pass this course now My tummy feels kind of crummy You should probably study Tummy feels kind of crummy You should probably study Writin’ up my treatise Drinking almond sweetness Think I love my soulmate She loves margaritas My life is a quandary Wish she’d do her laundry We’ve got some camaraderie Unlike Jason and Tahani Tummy feels kind of crummy You should probably study Tummy feels kind of crummy You should probably study Yeah, you’re gonna take my course just to save your soul We’re gonna try to get ethical You’re gonna take my course just to save my soul We’re gonna try to get ethical I lied, shrimp fly, mother forking shirt balls Spent my whole life living like a Bad Janet jerk-wad Chidi’s got a habit: teleology and Kierkegaard Writing down “Plato” in my nightmarish clown hut Mike can’t guess that I’m truly bad He can kiss my ash, I’m a full trash bag Hope I can ace this course and save my soul I‘m gonna try to get ethical Yeah, you’re gonna take my course just to save your soul We’re gonna try to get ethical You’re gonna take my course just to save my soul We’re gonna try to get ethical

One evening as the sun went down And our cooking coals were glowing Down the path came a party hiking And they said, “Folks, we’re all going We’re yearning for a portal far away In a tavern full of shoutin’ So join us, friends, and let’s descend Deep into Undermountain!” Deep into Undermountain There run dungeons hot and cold Where the monsters surge in pushes And the youngest runes are old Where the mimics all lie waiting And the goblin werebats roost All the wisps and wasps And the mezzoloths The hidden pit Where we’ll all plummet Deep into Undermountain Deep into Undermountain All our blades will sing like choirs As our arrows strike like drumbeats And our green flame pops in pyres Our barbarian will stomp a brute As the rogues dance shadowplay O we’re sworn to go At a great tempo We’ll chant our spells As we now delve Deep into Undermountain Deep into Undermountain You’ll always find new gear And your old mundane accouterment Can be handed down, don’t fear The magic items you’ll attune And the artifacts you’ll find There’s armor with gems And weird potions And a propeller hat That lets you ascend Deep into Undermountain Deep into Undermountain The Mad Wizard stood gates So folks can open portals He left clues to activate He has a thing for puzzles And he likes to throw his voice We’re going to delve To where he dwells To the lowest tower To seek his power Deep into Undermountain I’ll see you there, the lowest lair Deep into Undermountain

Joe! With the green glass screen Placing blocks by hand, it’s the Hills extreme Have you ever seen a Joe Hills expand Growin’ and showin’ up per your demands Yeah, everybody subscribe Sean Hills, uh, is here to promote his bro live Placing blocks all o’er the place All while powered by a beacon with jump boost and haste Brother, I watch him Let’s Playin’ Excavate with Joe, all the viewers are sayin’ Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Stream it, fill in your gaps Check live-feeds and load up Hermitcraft Watch it on any size screen Back it up to clone redstone machines Just buildin’ with dry concrete powder Wettin’ it down, for a much smoother tower ‘Cause on this tube there's only one server The whitelist is closed, so don't inquire further Neighboring players compete on their stores Hermitcrafters you love with improv rapport, you just Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Viewers, you better click subscribe Because today we're building that hype Comment, your praises don't fail Sean Hills on a roll with Hermitcraft details Singing out loud the way it should be sung With the Nashville sound that you like for fun You know it's live now like a Hermitcrafter Read the description, tweet about it after The hour of the Hermit is nigh Churning out videos y'all will like Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Bingewatch Hermitcraft! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Bingewatch Hermitcraft Bingewatch Hermitcraft Bingewatch Hermitcraft Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Go bingewatch, go bingewatch, Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe! Joe!

Light green felt is hanging from the wall We stocked up on all the alcohol Gonna get streamin’, streaming for folks I’ll play games before I tell a bunch of jokes The green screen dress, to celebrate Saint Pat The green screen dress, it chroma keys like that! The green dress, oh, let’s lift a brew Toast the green screen dress, cheers to neon you Neon you Let’s mine in game where we can swing some picks Let’s strike diamonds, attach them to some sticks Folk’s ain’t here for singing, they wanna watch us play Let’s give ‘em all a show for Saint Patty’s Day The green screen dress, to celebrate Saint Pat The green screen dress, it chroma keys like that! The green dress, oh, let’s lift a brew, Toast the green screen dress, cheers to neon you Neon you Can we start Minecraft, Joe? Can you say howdy y’all? All three chats are waiting for your drawl Can I get set up, dear? Fighting OBS We’ll initiate inebriation, cheers your green screen dress! The green screen dress, to celebrate Saint Pat The green screen dress, it chroma keys like that! The green dress, oh, let’s lift a brew Toast the green screen dress, cheers to neon you Neon you Neon you Neon you The green screen dress The green screen dress Neon you The green screen dress The green screen dress The green screen dress The green screen dress

It’s absurdity in RPG form Tycho Brahe’s behind creased cardboard But you don’t pull up chairs for humor, do you? You shouldn’t miss this guy, K’thriss He shakes a stone, there’s light eldritch Compelling you, the viewers, to hit the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Walnut’s grove is gone, which sucks for a Druid Plus Maelith’s strong, but Nut’s wising to it Sigils on the cave walls stabbed like daggers She took wolf form and she howled aloud She bit at K’thriss and she snapped her snout And by her instincts led you to the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Rosie, she’s shopped there before All her grandkids get gifts from this store Little halflings with Acq. Inc. pins playing footloose I’ve seen them picnic beneath the stars Wearing their bright Dark magic scarves It’s a one-stop shop for birthdays at the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Donnar’s a paladin, Dragonborn Who treats ev’rybody else with scorn But you know that they all deserve it, don’t you? He gains entitlement from bits Or so Jerry claims, so I guess it fits And they both expect you all to hit the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Hit the merch store, hit the merch store Maybe there are gods beyond Whose tendrils shift their waking pawns But Jerry kind of seems like he has got this Except the times when the phones light up And ideas arise then outright erupt And Jerry’s gone volcanic cursing Rothfuss What now, Rothfuss? Come on, Rothfuss Ignore Rothfuss, gosh darn Rothfuss Dang it, Rothfuss, my game, Rothfuss Go home, Rothfuss, shut up, Rothfuss Flippin’ Rothfuss, let’s not do this Hit the merch store, Hit the merch store

There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold The Northern Lights have seen strange sights But the strangest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell Though he'd often say in his homely way that he'd sooner live in hell On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request" Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan: "It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains" A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains" Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May" And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum" Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked," then the door I opened wide And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm" There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold The Northern Lights have seen strange sights But the strangest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee