Autumn Almanae - The Kinks

From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar

When the dawn begins to crack

It’s all part of my autumn almanac

Breeze blows leaves of a musty-coloured yellow

So I sweep them in my sack

Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac

Friday evenings, people get together

Hiding from the weather

Tea and toasted, buttered currant buns

Can’t compensate for lack of sun

Because the summer’s all gone

La-la-la-la

Oh, my poor rheumatic back

Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac

La-la-la-la

Oh, my autumn almanac

Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac

I like my football on a Saturday

Roast beef on Sundays, all right

I go

To Blackpool for my holidays

Sit in the open sunlight

This is my street, and I’m never gonna to leave it

And I’m always gonna to stay here

If I live to be ninety-nine

Cause all the people I meet

Seem to come from my street

And I can’t get away

Because it’s calling me, (come on home)

Hear it calling me, (come on home)

La-la-la-la

Oh, my autumn Armagnac

Yes, yes, yes, it’s my autumn almanac

La-la-la-la

Oh, my autumn almanac

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes

Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!

Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!