From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar,
|
When the dawn begins to crack.
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It's all part of my autumn almanac.
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Breeze blows leaves over, mostly coloured yellow,
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So I sweep them in my sack.
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Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac.
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Friday evenings, people get together,
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Hiding from the weather.
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Tea and toasted, buttered currant buns
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Can't compensate for lack of sun,
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Because the summer's all gone.
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La-la-la-la...
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Oh, my poor rheumatic back
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Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac.
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La-la-la-la...
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Oh, my autumn almanac
|
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac.
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I like my football on a Saturday,
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Roast beef on Sundays, all right.
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I go to Blackpool for my holidays,
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Sit in the autumn sunlight.
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This is my street, and I'm never gonna leave it,
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And I'm always gonna stay here
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If I live to be ninety-nine,
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'Cause all the people I meet
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Seem to come from my street
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And I can't get away,
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Because it's calling me, (come on home)
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Hear it calling me, (come on home)
|
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La-la-la-la...
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Oh, my autumn Armagnac
|
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac.
|
La-la-la-la...
|
Oh, my autumn almanac
|
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
|
|
Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!
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Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!
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(etc.)
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-----------------
|
Autumn Almanac
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| kinks |
