When apple blossoms scent the air for many miles around
And the oriole is with us once again
And dandelion blossoms lie thick upon the ground
Then its springtime in the Isles of Lake Champlain

When throngs from crowded cities flock to our lovely shore
To recuperate and rest their tired brain
The beauty of our islands attracts them more and more
Then it's summer in the Isles of Lake Champlain

When the big ripe golden pumpkin strews the field of yellow corn
And the harvest is abundant in the main
And heaps of big red  apples with which our tables we adorn
Then its autumn in the Isles of Lake Champlain

When Mount Mansfield lies in slumber neath its robe of pure white
And the north wind chills your very vein
And you hear the sleigh bells jingle in the stillness of the night
Then its winter in the Isles of Lake Champlain.

Our islands they are gorgeous their beauty is galore
I never can describe them my efforts would be vain
With their points and bays and broad sand beaches and wooded rocky shore
And we welcome all good people to the Isles of Lake Champlain