The leaves come down

And they’re orange and brown

And they fall in the forest

And they tumble in the town

And they clog up the gutters and gather in the grates

They're  the colour of butter when they shine on slates 

And they crinkle and curl as they silently lie

For this is the time when the leaves all die

 

In Autumn gales 

They are blown and tossed

As the sun turns pale

With the first days of frost

And they fall in the morning

And they fall in the dark

And they settle without warning

On the swings in the park

Once they were many 

But none will remain

Til the green sprigs of spring fill the hedges again

 

And in holes that are dug in the earth and the clay

Where the battle grinds on day after day

Men with grey faces and eyes set deep

Lie amongst leaves, longing for sleep

Once they were many 

But few will remain

Til the green sprigs of spring fill the hedges again