When The Leaves Commence To Fall

When the days commence to shorten
And the nights are getting long,
And we miss the flies and skeeters
And the song birds’ sweetest song,—
To some the summer’s passing,
Leaves the world a darker hue,
But to me it makes it brighter,
Just the same as if ’twas new.
As I say, some people hate it,
But I love it best of all;
When the nights are getting frosty
And the leaves commence to fall.
You get up in the morning
And the air is crisp and cold,
The hills have on their war paint,
Crimson, orange, brown and gold;
And to me they have a message
That I can’t forget at all,
When the nights are getting frosty
And the leaves commence to fall.
I can easily foresee
That I cannot tarry long,
So I at once get busy,
And my heart is full of song;
As I look my snow-shoes over,
And patch up my canoe;
As happy as a little boy
Whose red-top boots are new.
And I work both late and early
And don’t want to stop at all,
When the nights are getting frosty
And the leaves commence to fall.
Now the north wind is a-blowing
But, then little do I care,
For I know a little cabin
Holds all my grubstake there.
And that very self-same cabin
Is dearer to me than all,
When the nights are getting frosty
And the leaves commence to fall.
And so I will soon be starting
To where the deer on meadows play,
And the wondrous Northern lights
Make the forest light as day.
Back to the lakes and rivers,
As straight as a laden bee,
Back to the forest primeval,
That’s where I long to be!
Trapping on creeks and marshes,
Back where the bull-moose call.
When the nights are getting frosty
And the leaves commence to fall.