W'en de leaves begin to fall,
An’ de fros’ is on de ground,
An’ de‘ simmons is a-ripenin’ on de tree;
W'en I heah de dinner call,
An’ de chillen gadder‘ round,
‘ Tis den de‘ possum is de meat fu’ me.
W'en de wintertime am pas’
An’ de spring is come at las’,
W'en de good ole summer sun begins to shine;
Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn,
An’ my heart begins to yearn
Fo’ dat watermelon growin’ on de vine.
Now, de yeah will sholy bring
‘ Round a season fu’ us all,
Ev'y one kin pick his season f'om de res’;
But de melon in de spring,
An’ de‘ possum in de fall,
Mek it hard to tell which time o’ year am bes’.