The way the seasons change

The bee on the clover

The white cliffs of dover

Oh, how the seasons change

 

The feathers in the fields

float as I feel,

The heathers on the hills

Hail out their shrill rills,

 

The spiders webbed catch,

The rain drops and thatch,

Their eggs which hatch,

Their plan

And this is the way, though it may seem strange,

Yes, this is the way the seasons do change,

 

The buttercups and the daisies lie round all quite lazy

They flop, and they fillet and fidget Miss Maisy,

Who walks in the fields and feels the chills,

Of Springtime and Summer draw near

The Winter so far off, yet spinning its jar of

Strawberry jam and rhubarb conserve

 

The dance glades are glancing, the grass blades are dancing,

The dragon flies lancing, the ladybirds lay,

The roses are chancing, as France is romancing,

The meadow so sweet in the smell of your clothes

And Summer is trancing, entrancing and glancing,

The snakes so slicing, sliding and gliding away,

The sunbathers are bathing, in new sun they're savouring,

And ages are wavering through the waves of the day,

And oh, it seems strange to you, 

But this is the way the seasons change they do,

 

And the fathers are fathering, and feathering, tarring and tethering,

And lathering and lithering and clowning and clawing

And the silage has been mown, and the mowers have been sewn,

And the beans are sprouting, and the seeds are grown,

The furrows are furrowing, deep in the burrowing,

the rabbits are tunnelling under the crows,

Who are squawking and talking in parliaments walking,

and gawking at all of those they know

 

And we are so baffled by spring's nature raffles

And summers they trifled and truffled in troves

And everything's glancing, the new season's dancing,

The midsummer's tower has toppled in throes,

Down it shall fall again to Autumn's dark wall again,

But too soon to those shadows and shades that they've known,

In every springtime a hint of the winter,

In every winter day a new summer grows

And it may seem strange, but that is the way the seasons change,

 

The grasses are flopping, and the thorn bushes popping,

The grasshoppers hop-hopping in the long summer shows,

And the clover is bursting and the bees they are thirsting,

For a flower supper and nectar cuppa in rainbows

And it may seem strange, but this is the way,

The seasons do change.