(kurt weill/maxwell anderson)



For it's a long, long time

From may to december

And the days grow short

When you reach september

And the autumn weather

Turns the leaves to flame

And i haven't got time

For the waiting game

And the days dwindle down

To a precious few

September november

And these few precious days

I'd spend with you

These golden days

I'd spend with you

When you meet with the young man early in spring

They court you in song and rhyme

They woo you with words 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

A plentiful waste of time