Autumn Almanac

Friday evenings, people get together

I like my football on a Saturday
La la la la, oh my poor rheumatic back
Buttered currant buns, can't compensate

Hiding from the weather, tea and toasted
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes

La la la la, oh my autumn almanac
And I can't get away because it's calling me, come on home
Sit in the open sunlight
'Cause all the people I meet, seem to come from my street
Bop bop bop bop bop, whoa
La la la la, oh my autumn almanac
And I'm always gonna to stay here if I live to be ninety-nine
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
This is my street and I'm never gonna to leave it

Hear it calling me, come on home

La la la la, oh my autumn almanac
For lack of sun because the summer's all gone
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
I go to Blackpool for my holidays
So I sweep them in my sack, yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
Roast beef on Sundays, all right
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
Breeze blows leaves of a musty-colored yellow