When you are a young man courting the girls
You're playing a waiting game
When a maid refused you with tossing curls
You'd let the old Earth make a couple of whirls
And you plied her with tears in lieu of pearls
And as time came around she came your way
And you're through with the waiting game
But it's a long, long while from May to 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
Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I'll spend with you
These golden days I'll spend with you
