Then he put his horn to his mouth and blew:
To the valley revellers hie!
They are clad in autumnal fancy-dresses,
They are weary of green and faded tresses
Summer has vanished, Winter is nigh—
Hey fol-de-rol-day for Autumn!
The beech wears a coat of red,
The oak grows feeble, his strength is shaken,
Summer’s fine birds the Devil has taken!
The bees are excused, the flies are dead—