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
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.