From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar
When the dawn begins to crack
It's all part of my autumn almanac
Breeze blows leaves of a musty-coloured yellow
So I sweep them in my sack
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac.
Friday evenings, people get together
Hiding from the weather
Tea and toasted, bu*tered currant buns
Can't compensate for lack of sun
Because the summer's all gone
La-la-la-la
Oh, my poor rheumatic back
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
La-la-la-la
Oh, my autumn almanac
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
I like my football on a Saturday
Roast beef on Sundays, all right
I go
To Blackpool for my holidays
Sit in the open sunlight.
This is my street, and I'm never gonna to leave it
And I'm always gonna to stay here
If I live to be ninety-nine
Cause all the people I meet
Seem to come from my street
And I can't get away
Because it's calling me, (come on home)
Hear it calling me, (come on home)
La-la-la-la
Oh, my autumn Armagnac
Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac
La-la-la-la
Oh, my autumn almanac
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!
Bop-bop-bopm-bop-bop, whoa!