Oh it's a long, long while
from May 'till December
And the days grow short
When you reach September.
When the Autumn weather
turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got time
For the waiting game.
For the days dwindle down
To a precious few...
September...November...
And these few precious days
I'll spend with you.
These precious days
I'll spend with you.
When you meet with the young men
Early in Spring,
They court you in song and rhyme.
They woo you with songs and a clover ring,
But if you examine the goods they bring,
They have little to offer but the songs they sing
And a plentiful waste of time of day...
And a plentiful waste of time...
But it's a long, long while
from May 'till December
(pause for instrumental phrase)
(pause for instrumental phrase)
When the Autumn weather
Turns the leaves to flame
(pause for instrumental phrase)
(pause for instrumental phrase)
For the days dwindle down
To a precious few;
September...November...
And these few precious days
I'll spend with you.
These precious days
I'll spend with you!