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September Song

de Barbara Dickson

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 that hasn't got time
For the waiting game

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

When you meet with a young man early in spring
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 and day
And a plentiful waste of time

But it's a long, long while
From May 'till December
When the autumn weather
Turns the leaves to flame
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

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