Kicking Up Leaves
The summer is over, The trees are all bare, There is mist in the garden And frost in the air. The meadows are empty, And gathered the sheaves, But isn’t it lovely Kicking up...
The summer is over, The trees are all bare, There is mist in the garden And frost in the air. The meadows are empty, And gathered the sheaves, But isn’t it lovely Kicking up...