Bitter for Sweet

Bitter for Sweet

Summer is gone with all its roses, its roses

Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers

Its warm air and refreshing showers

And even Autumn closes

Yea, Autumn's chilly self is going, is going

And winter comes which is yet colder

Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder

And the last buds cease blowing, blowing

And winter comes which is yet colder, yet colder

Each day the hoar-frost waxes bolder

And the last buds cease blowing