In the Fall, when woods are turning,
I feel again that fruitless yearning.
The burning leaves,
The hint of winter grieves me,
And I'm blue.

In the Fall, the days are fleeting,
While towards the south small wings are beating.
The killing frost reminds me summer's lost,
And so are you.

Wistfully, I close my eyes and I remember,
Summertime, your lips on mine,
A memory in September...

In the Fall, the wind goes crying
For all the bright things slowly dying.
The nights grow wild, and like a little child,
I cry for you.

Music and Lyrics copyright 1954-1979-1992-1998 by Louise Jackson Doyle

Play "In The Fall"

Back To Collection I Titles