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 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 the young men Early in Spring, They court you in song and rhyme. They woo you with songs 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 And a plentiful waste of time But it's a long, long while from May 'till December (pause for instrumental phrase) (pause for instrumental phrase) When the Autumn weather Turns the leaves to flame (pause for instrumental phrase) (pause for instrumental phrase) 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!