September Song

When I was a young man

courting the girls,

I played me a waiting game.

If a maid refused me

with tossing curls,

I'd let the old earth

take a couple of whirls,

While I plied her with tears instead of pearls.

And as time came around she came my way.

As time came around, she came.

Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December,

But 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.

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 with you.