O how I long for solid roads in the merry month of June;
The birds they all sing gaily, all nature seems in tune.
Vacation is my happy time, how jolly I will feel
A-spinning down to Rustico on my seventy-six geared wheel.

I'll start in early morning and in an hour's ride
I'll spin into that little town, they call it Summerside
I'll take a couple of glasses there, which makes my head soon reel,
And the road gets strangely smoother for my seventy-six geared wheel.

Then on I go like Gallagher at my very level best,
And the next place that I come to, they call it Traveller's Rest,
Then Kensington does bring me up, you bet I'll merry feel
From travelling at such mighty speed on my seventy-six geared wheel.

I'll just drop into Clark's Hotel and there I'll rest a while,
Then on I'll press to Margate, a distance of three miles.
Then pleasant thoughts into my head involuntarily steal,
Until I arrive at Clinton on my seventy-six geared wheel.

Then Stanley Bridge comes next in view and a pretty place it is,
And when I cross the railroad track, you bet I'll let her whiz.
Then taking straight a southeast course past Simpson's and McNeil's
Until I arrive at Rustico on my seventy-six geared wheel.

Then opening up the garden gate I gallantly do score1
Up the marble pathway and to the big front door.
There Mary, smiling sweetly, stands, you'll bet I'll happy feel
When I alight into her arms from my seventy-six geared wheel.