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When I was a young man |
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Courting the girls |
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I played me a waiting game |
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If a maid refused me with tossing curls |
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I let the old Earth take a couple of whirls |
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While I plied her with tears in lieu of pearls |
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And as time came around |
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She came my way |
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As time came around |
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She came |
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But, it's a long, long while from May to December |
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But the days grow short when you reach September |
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When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame |
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One hasn't got time for the waiting game |
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Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few |
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September, November |
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And these few precious days I'll spend with you |
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These precious days I'll spend with you |
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And the wine dwindles down to a precious brew |
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September, November |
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And these few vintage years I'll spend with you |
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These precious years I'll spend with you |