When I was a young man courting the girls
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I played me a waiting game.
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If a maid refused me with tossing curls
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I'd let the old earth take a couple of twirls
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And I'd ply her with tears instead of pearls
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And as time came around, she came my way
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As time came around, she came
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But it's a long, long while from May to December
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And the days grow short when you reach September.
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The autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
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And I haven't got the time for the waiting game.
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Oh, the days dwindle down to precious few;
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September, November.
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And these few precious days I'll spend with you.
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These precious days I'll spend with you.
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SEPTEMBER SONG
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| Peter, Paul & Mary |
