A matter of growing old
when we're young it's May
Wonderful, beautiful
glorious May
Then middle age is like
the turning of the year
It's September
and finally December comes
It's a long long while
From May to December
For the days grow short
when you reach September
When autumn weather
Turns the leaves to flame
One hasn't got the time
for the waiting game
Oh the days dwindle down
to a precious few
September Novembe
And these few precious days
I'll spend with you
These precious days I'll spend
September November With you