Yillow, yillow, yillow,

Old worm, my pretty quirk,

How the wind spells out

Sep - tem - ber …

Summer is in bones.

Cock-robin’s at Caracas.

Make o, make o, make o,

Oto - otu - bre.

And the rude leaves fall.

The rain falls. The sky

Falls and lies with the worms.

The street lamps

Are those that have been hanged,

Dangling in an illogical

To and to and fro

Fro Niz - nil - imbo.