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!
[etc]