|
April Come She Will (P. Simon) April come she will When streams are ripe and swelled with rain; May, she will stay, Resting in my arms again. June, she'll change her tune, In restless walks she'll prowl the night; July, she will fly And give no warning to her flight. August, die she must, The autumn winds blow chilly and cold; September I'll remember A love once new has now grown old.
|
