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September Song
par
Bing Crosby
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When I was a young man courting the girls I played me a waiting game If a maid refused me with tossing curls I'd let the old Earth make a couple of whirls While I plied her with tears in lieu of pearls And as time came around she came my way As time came around, she came When you meet with the young girls early in the Spring You court them in song and rhyme They answer with words and a clover ring But if you could examine the goods they bring They have little to offer but the songs they sing And the plentiful waste of time of day A plentiful waste of time Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December But 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 Oh, 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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