Some tales say morrow knows, I know not why they say so,
some go where sorrow goes, I know not
where they do go
One comes with winter's wind to tell a tale of mourning,
one free as summer's sin, to tell
a tale of mourning
Spinning around in circles every day,
spinning around and finding no new way
Spinning around, spinning around they say,
I wish them all dead anyway
So sing the poets then, I know not why they sing so,
so go they sorrow's friends, I know not
where they do go
One comes with autumn's rain and sings a song of mourning,
one sets the spring aflame
And sings a song of mourning
Spnning around in circles every day, spinning around and finding no new way
Spinning around, spinning around they say, I wish they all could go away
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