They court you in song and rhyme
They woo you with words 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, a plentiful waste of time

But it's a long, long while from May to December
And the days grow short when you reach September
And the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
And I haven't got time for the waiting game

For the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'd spend with you
These golden days I'd spend with you