When I met a young man courting the girls
I played me a waiting game,
I first had refused him with tossing curls,
I'd let the old Earth make a couple of whirls
Till he plied me with tears in lieu of pearls.
And as time came around, he came my way,
As time came around, he 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.
All the days dwindle down to a precious few
And these few precious days I'll spend with you,
These precious days I'll spend with you.