When green leaves turn to brown
And fungus smells all around
There’s going to be a harvest soon
Shovels and two pairs of boots.
When gourds make farmer’s fields
Polka dots and ferris wheels
Big moon’s on the rise
Shovels and two pairs of boots.
When the deepest lake’s turning cold
And chairs are folding up
Cider’s laid to rest
Shovels and two pairs of boots.