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 take a couple of whirls
While I plied her with tears in place of pearls
And as time came around she came my way
As time came around, she came

But, it's a long, long while, from May to December
And the days grow short
When you reach September
And the autumn weather
Turns the leaves to flame
I haven't got time
For the waiting game

And the days turn to gold
As they grow few
September, November
And these few golden days
I'd share with you
These golden days I'd share with you

September, November
And these few vintage years
I'd share with you
These vintage years
I'd share with you