| Feasts of harvest held
|
| Midsummer sun done her spell
|
| The crow sings his song
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| Quite ruggedly, slightly out of key
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| The swallow flies on
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| But the Northman only waits
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| Staring calmly, silently and thoughtfully
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| As the rising north wind cunningly invades
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| Soon the leaves will fall again
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| And be gone just like her smile
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| Hearts can turn with the autumn winds
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| And the winds sometimes feel vile
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| Last warm rays absorbed
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| The mist soon whispers its lore
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| Now wait for the cold
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| Be prepared for the falling
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| Of the new winter’s snow
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| And the changes that will come
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| Then I’ll hold on to the memory
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| It was you and me
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| That I felt on those nights so vividly
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| The time for a feast will soon be around
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| Join, ye lads, and make a sound
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| A sound of joy in the winter’s embrace
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| With laughter the longing
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| Now be replaced
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| With laughter the longing
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| Now be replaced
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| With laughter the longing
|
| Now be replaced |