(spoken) 

A matter of growing old when we're young it's May

Wonderful, beautiful, glorious May

Then middle age is like the turning of the year

It's September and finally December comes

It's a long long while ....



From May to December

For the days grow short when you reach September

When autumn weather

Turns the leaves to flame

One hasn't got the time for the waiting game

Oh 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

September

November

With you