September Song

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When I was a young man 
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courting the girls,
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I played me a waiting game.
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If a maid refused me 
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with tossing curls,
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I'd let the old earth 
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take a couple of whirls,
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While I plied 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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Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December,
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But the days grow short when you reach September.
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When the Autumn weather turns the leaves to flame,
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One hasn't got time for the waiting game.
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Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few--
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September, November.  And these few precious days
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I'll spend with you.  These precious days,
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I'll spend with you.