Driving into town to see him lie,

To see him in peace and to say goodbye,

Sunnyside is not so sunny.

Standing in a lush green field,

Dressed in black with tears that refuse to yield,

Sunnyside is not so sunny.

But now we sit, we talk,

In fellowship we remember his ways.

And as the arm goes around the clock

It reminds us that, surely, the days

In Sunnyside will again be sunny.