When streams are ripe and swelled with rain.
Resting in my arms again.
June, she'll change her tune.
In restless walks she'll prowl the night.
And give no warning to her flight.
August, die she must.
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.
September, I'll remember.
A love once new has now grown old.
Статистика страницы на pesni.guru ▼
Просмотров сегодня: 3