'Twas in the month of Michaelmas,
When leaves were turning gold,
I first beheld my own true love
So comely to behold.
With figure slim and auburn locks,
Sweet smile and winning charms –
Well, before I knew which way to turn,
I held her in my arms.
Winter came with stealth and guile
And I, now feeling bold,
Wrapped my ams around her tight,
To shield her from the cold.
The spring arrived and bells rang out
As up the aisle I went.
Whilst she had planned our wedding day,
My money all was spent.
In summer days, and harvestime
My love had put on weight.
And shortly after Michaelmas
Came the appointed date.
In the season of true fruitfulness
I then saw what I'd done
For as the leaves fell, we were three
And now I had a son.
The following year another came –
Our time was not our own.
It was amazing how our family,
Since Michaelmas, had grown.
So, beware you lusty farmer boys
Who stack the summer grain:
My story has a warning note,
That should be very plain.
If sleepless nights and nappies
Are both things that you abhor.
When Michaelmas approaches you,
Make sure you lock your door.
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