For it's a long, long time
  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
  And 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
  When you meet with the 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 of day
  A plentiful waste of time