| 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
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| 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
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| Early in Spring
|
| They court you in song and rhyme
|
| They woo you with songs and a clover ring
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| 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! |