Autumn Song

Rusty-red, yellow, brown
Summer's gone,
Winter to come.

By the windfall of apples,
And the stripping of trees,
By the pick up of conkers,
And the carpet o leaves.

By the tired-faced flowers,
And the mould on the mound,
By the sole crunching berries,
And the bee's farewell sound.

Rusty-red, yellow, brown
Summer's gone,
Winter to come.